


The Wonderful Won Won

by hillnerd



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward First Times, Canon, F/M, Hinny, Ron Weasley POV, romione
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 12:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14894403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hillnerd/pseuds/hillnerd
Summary: Being a teenager is difficult at best- but throw in a dose of flirtations, insecurity and snogs- well that makes it even worse. Ron is torn about his emotions regarding Hermione. For now he throws himself into Lavender.Book 6 from Ron's POV starting with the day of Slughorn's Christmas Party. Starts with Ron/Lav's relationship- but is FIRMLY ROMIONE.





	1. Won Won and Lav Lav

**Author's Note:**

> A THOUSAND THANKS TO THE BEST BETA EVER, [DIVAGONZO.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo)
> 
> This story is firmly Ron/Hermione, even though it covers Ron's relationship with Lavender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is the 'M-rated' version of this chapter here: [[LINK]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17549018)\- which has more explicit sex contained in it. Contains teenage sex- and that means it's not glorious and sexy- half the time it's just embarrassing.

The castle was abuzz with yuletide excitement, and great swathes of mistletoe and garlands littered every corridor. Ron put his hands deeper into his pockets, willing the festive air to leave him alone. The Fat Lady’s portrait was empty, making him have to wait as a group of caroling ghosts floated by.

“I’m back!” panted the Fat Lady, looking a bit tipsy. “Don’t look so down! It’s Christmas after all!”

“Baubles,” said Ron with little yuletide spirit, before dragging himself up the stairs to his dorm. No one was there, and he took a moment to slam the door with gusto a few times and kick his trunk. He swore as his foot pulsed in pain.

He didn’t know why he felt so angry, really. What was Hermione’s love-life to him? He had a girlfriend now. Hermione had attacked him with birds, and had been treating him like dragon dung for weeks. Why should he care at all? She was trying to get at him by announcing she’d go to Slughorn’s party with McLaggen, and Ron would be be damned if he gave her the satisfaction of a reaction as she dangled her evening plans about.

_Going to go out with Cormac McLaggen? Well have a merry old time with that horror of a date, Hermione!_

Maybe that was just Hermione’s modus operandi when it came to dating. Go out with unpleasant oversized moronic Quidditch players. After all, she had snogged Viktor Krum— _Krum! Of all people!_ _—_ and had never told Ron. He supposed that was what made him more hurt than anything else. They shared everything, he and Hermione. There had never been a lie between them in all their years of friendship. At least, he had thought so. That wasn’t the case, though, was it?  She had continually lied to him about Krum. Yeah yeah, he got right tetchy when Krum came up, but that was only because Hermione was perfect and someone like Krum couldn’t appreciate her and treat her how she deserved. Hermione was of age _now_ , but that pervert had been sniffing around her since she was fourteen. Krum was dancing with her, saving her from lakes and all sorts of things, but wouldn’t even take the time to say her name right.

Ron would dance with her, if she’d let him. He would save her any chance he could, and from real threats, not some stupid task. Ron was already there for her in every capacity he could be. Krum couldn’t make her laugh. Krum didn’t make her take the time to eat when she’d been studying. Krum didn’t sit beside her hospital bed all those times. Krum didn’t go on adventures with her. Krum didn’t defend her from bullies. Krum didn’t do anything with her; yet he had gotten to share something with her that made Ron’s stomach plummet. He’d gotten to kiss the smartest, kindest, most beautiful girl who ever existed. She’d given herself to him.

Ron curled into his pillow, feeling a ridiculous urge to cry. He wouldn’t, of course. He wasn’t some home-sick first year. Ron had noticed his fair share of girls, but he’d never been serious about any of them, except Hermione. He wasn’t sure when it had clicked into place how much she meant to him, it had come on so gradually. It was always Hermione. Her wild hair, her pert looks, her almond eyes that could flash in annoyance one moment then twinkle with laughter the next.

Was it stupid that on some level he’d been ‘saving himself’ for her? Of course it was stupid. After all, Hermione hadn’t saved her kisses for him. Hell, she barely managed to give him an ounce of appreciation most of the time. It was Hermione’s way to be critical, and he liked her as she was, but somewhere along the line she kept being critical of Ron, and started praising Harry.

She began telling Harry how smart, brave, fanciable, and tall he was. She even blushed and stammered when she found out Harry had praised her in front of Slughorn. Ron told her how brilliant she was all the time —told others! — yet she never blushed so prettily for him. On top of it all, she never showed faith in him.

When he’d been chosen as Prefect, most people were shocked, seeming to think Dumbledore would never find him capable enough for that particular responsibility. Hermione’s reaction stung the most, though. She looked so happy as she ran up to Harry thinking he was Prefect, saying how sure she was he would be chosen. She couldn’t even spit out a reply to the news that Ron was named Prefect instead. He always felt useless, but Hermione being unable to say one good thing he’d ever done hurt him so deeply he thought he’d be sick. Hermione was never unable to come up with an answer on the spot, but the second it came to defending Ron, she couldn’t say anything. She thought that little of him. Well, everyone felt that way about him. he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that Hermione thought him useless as well. So he swallowed it down like he did everything else.

Then the incident with _Felix Felicis_ had been the last straw for him with her. She was so certain that he performing well in Quidditch was impossible. She was so certain he needed a potion to save everything. She’d missed his triumphant victory last year, and this year she didn’t believe his current triumph was earned. She couldn't fathom one single thought of him performing well. No, she blamed it on cheating, on something other than his hard work.  She really did think nothing of him.

She had to know he was mad about her, given how smart she was, but she continued to value everyone more than him. She gave all those bloody hints she liked him, but kept taking him for granted and--

Well that was fine. She could think whatever she liked. He was tired of trying to get her to notice him, to love him how he loved her.

_Wait a moment, Love? Ok, mate, that’s a bit much. Let’s say fancy._

He fancied her. So much. And she just kept being so critical, dismissive, and secretive. There were moments he thought maybe she really did notice him, and was interested in him like he was her. She gave him a kiss on his cheek last year, and he’d been blissed out for almost twenty minutes afterwards, like a poxy eight year old. Then she invited him to Slughorn’s party this year. She didn’t say it was a date, but it felt like it might be. That _potential_ had buoyed hope in Ron for weeks.

He had hoped Hermione was shyly flirting with him, as he sometimes managed to do with her. They were just two slow-moving inexperienced teens. Then one night in a corridor all that hope had all been dashed. Ginny screamed at him Hermione had already snogged Viktor Krum two whole years ago. His pride began to sting. She had said there was nothing between her and Krum — that they were _just friends._ She had lied. All this slow-moving flirting or whatever she’d been doing with Ron… it was all one big lie. Hermione didn’t take it slow with people she _actually_ fancied. She snogged them within a year of even knowing they exist. She just was toying with Ron as some backup boyfriend until someone better came along.

Well, he was done. He was going to stop fancying Hermione Granger. He was going to continue to go out with Lavender, who obviously liked him. She praised him and seemed to value him more in the past month and a half than Hermione ever had in Ron’s acquaintance with her. Hermione was angry with him over it —perhaps jealous, and he was horribly gratified by it.

_Have a taste of it, Hermione. That’s what it feels like. I’m not going to wait around for you anymore._

She wanted him to quarantine himself off to never get any attention from anyone, while she had been off snogging Krum. She wanted to continue belittling him while he uselessly pined after her. _Well, fat chance of that happening any more, Hermione!_  He wasn’t going to be her backup boyfriend and punching bag anymore. He was going to get over Hermione Granger. He wanted her to be jealous; feel what he was going through. He felt an amazing sense of vindication, but it was tempered by an unpleasant pit in his stomach that seemed to grow each day.

Instead of remaining friends through the jealousy, like Ron had with her - she was shutting him out completely. He missed her. They’d had their spats where they didn’t talk a few times, but that hadn’t been the case for three years. Now he didn’t know how to have a day where he wasn’t eating breakfast at her side, sharing small smiles in class, getting her to punch his arm and roll her eyes, and confide in her around the fireplace when Harry was off with Dumbledore.

He missed her, but also was livid with her, and he was just so torn between the two emotions he didn’t know what to do except keep kissing Lavender.

“Ron, you up?” he heard Harry ask from outside the curtains to his bed.

“Yeah,” he said, hoping he sounded nonchalant. He opened the curtains to see Harry in his dress-robes.

“Do I look like a git?” Harry asked, patting at his messy hair.

“You always look like a git.”

“Cheers,” said Harry, before throwing a pillow at Ron’s head. Ron deflected it back at him, throwing Harry’s glasses eschew. “Well, I’m off to Slughorn’s then. Want me to swipe some food for you?”

“Only if there’s alcohol in it,” Ron said with a smile. “See you after.”

Harry gave him a wave and left. With Harry gone, Ron gave a long sigh. He opened his drawer to see if he had some sweets leftover from his last Hogsmeade trip. There were only questionable colored Bertie Bott’s jelly beans left, so he decided to forgo the possible taste of vomit or bogies, and instead drag his arse down to the common room to play himself in chess.

The common room was fairly empty, with the majority of students either packing or out around the castle for one last hurrah before break. A small platoon were also going to Slughorn’s party. Ron sat next to the common room fire feeling miserable. He was supposed to be at that party with Hermione. Last time she’d been on a date with someone else, she had looked stunning, and she was even prettier now. He didn’t have the heart to see her with another man again, looking even more perfect than usual. He had purposefully shut himself in his four poster long enough to avoid the sight of her with McLaggen.

Sitting alone at the fireplace felt so odd. Usually he and Hermione would be sitting next to each other playing chess, or laughing about something, or even just studying. He’d give his left nut to just study with her. _Stupid besotted git._

Who knows. Maybe if he stayed here long enough, Hermione would come up and sit there, realizing that some Slug Club party with McLaggen wasn’t worth it.. Even if she didn’t say anything, just having her next to him would be enough.

He felt a small tap on his shoulder and a smile broke out on his face. Maybe he had willed it to be so! He turned, and had to force his smile to stay in place.

“Hi Ron,” Lavender breathed out.

“Hi Lav,” he said. _Keep that smile on, Weasley._

She was not the girl he'd been fantasizing about, but he did his best to look pleased to see her. He _should_ be pleased to see his girlfriend after all, right? She was wearing a sparkly jumper that clung to her in an attractive way, and a pair of jeans that did just as much for her figure as the jumper.

“Want to go for a walk?”

“Er, yeah, sure.” Ron put his chessboard away, and hid it under his chair with a notice-me-not charm. He doubted anyone wanted to steal away his chess set, but at the same time, he couldn’t afford a new one should it go missing.

Lavender grabbed him by the hand and he dutifully followed her out the portrait and down the hall. As they walked, he thought of Hermione. Earlier that day her shoulders so tight they were up to her ears. She needed to relax a bit. She never took care of herself properly. She was always so busy taking care of Harry, the elves and her studies, that she left little energy for herself. If he didn’t make her sit and eat, he was certain she’d waste away in the library, blowing away like a puff of dust and turning into another ghost who haunted the charms section. Maybe he could get Harry to do something to intervene. Normally Ron would do it himself, but she still hated him. Every day she made it clear how dead to her he was, acidly glaring at him and ignoring him as if he’d done something wrong. And he was supposed to be mad at her, so that wouldn’t do to suddenly start looking after her as he always did.

Lavender suddenly came to stop and he almost ran into her. He had not taken notice of their path, and until she closed the door he didn’t even realize they were in a room he’d never seen before. It was a long abandoned study nook, barely bigger than a good size broom closet. It housed nothing except a desk, broken chair, and small window. Lavender took their wands and put them on the wobbly chair, and started kissing him, as she always did.

Their snogging got better each time, no longer as wet and odd as it had been the first few weeks they’d been at it. Her hands were getting more bold each time too. It felt nice when she ran her hands through his hair, but it felt even better when she pressed herself tight against him and let her hands travel up and down his back, sometimes even grabbing his bum. She practically climbed him when they snogged, so he was more concentrated on keeping them balanced than actually kissing her half the time.

In here, though, there was a desk. She seemed to be thinking the same thing, because she pushed him back until he was perched on the edge of the desk. She stood between his legs, kissing him deeply, her tongue acting like a niffler after some gold. He almost laughed as he inexplicably thought of the dentistry practices Hermione had told him about. Maybe Lavender was looking for cavities! As she continued to writhe against him, he felt his lower body begin to take notice. 

_Bugger!_

He tried to move his hips away, so maybe she wouldn’t feel his growing problem, but she seemed determined to keep him where he was. Her surprisingly forceful hands were able to be in so many places at once, it felt a bit like being attacked by the giant squid. She easily weaved her hands about, at one moment in his hair, then his back, and finally under the hem of his jumper and tee-shirt making them ride up his waist. He definitely couldn’t do the same sort of movements she did. It took all the effort in the world to move his hands around her and not accidentally throw her to the ground or something equally embarrassing.

One of his hands was on her shoulder started to drift downwards a bit. She pushed him further back on the desk and got on his lap, moving her hips against him in a sexy way he’d never imagined anyone would for him. He had to grab her thigh to prevent her from falling to the floor a few times. She guided his lips to her neck, so he obediently began to kiss and nip at her there, one hand at her back to keep her from sliding off; the other hand experimentally cupped, squeezed and rubbed at her, making her let out a little gasp in return.

It was exhausting figuring out what to simultaneously do with every bit of his body. Was this supposed to be instinctual? Because it felt like a really complicated potion. Her hands were starting to push his jumper and shirt further up his body, and her generous hips continued to to push back and forth. He’d never had so many things happening to his body at once.

She sat up straight and without saying anything started to tug his tops off of him. He imagined it was always hard to undress someone else, but he was all long limbs, so diminutive Lavender struggled to make the clothes climb up him all the way. He awkwardly moved his arms away from her, as he didn’t think she’d like it if he elbowed her in the nose; a very real possibility in such a tight space. Hermione would have said something or given him a warning. God, there was a boner killer. Not because it was Hermione. Normally the thought of her when he was randy like this would have quite the opposite effect… But right now, knowing he was making out with a really pretty curvy girl, who wasn’t Hermione, and probably never would be had a deflating effect, in both mind and body.

He’d never been shirtless with a girl like this, and wasn’t sure what Lavender’s reaction would be. He was in fairly good shape from all the Quidditch, he supposed, but he didn’t think it was anything to write home about. He definitely was pale and scrawny compared to Charlie or the Twins, but at least he was taller. She wasn’t really looking at him much, though, so it didn’t seem to matter.

She stripped off her jumper. His breath caught. He let it out when she revealed a tight white tee underneath. Her eyes were closed as her hands and mouth explored him. With eyes closed, he supposed he could be anyone to her. He closed his eyes and wondered if he could pretend it was Hermione instead of Lavender.

He tried, but all the smells and sensations made it too difficult.

Hermione’s hair was so thick and wild and a completely different texture from the glossy carefully sculpted waves Lavender had. Lavender’s perfume or whatever had a sweet smell, that was nice, but too cloying to smell all the time- like having your nose up in a bunch of candy floss. Hermione never went for candy-sweet smells like that. She liked clean crisp scents that you could barely smell. He had smelled her hair enough as they studied to know. He thought Hermione would really like that perfume he got her last year, as it smelled a bit like books and a rainy day. Finally Lavender’s loud pants and moans took him out of any Hermione filled fantasy he tried to picture. Hermione’s voice was more familiar to him than almost anyone’s, even her little breaths she’d wheeze out when she ran he’d know from anyone else’s.

Lavender painfully latched onto his neck her hands both clawing a bit into his chest. He wasn’t sure how much he liked that, since her nails were a bit sharp instead a short practical manicure like Hermione’s. He moved a hand down her back and rested it on her bum. She didn’t seem to mind, so he gave it the same sort of experimental squeeze he had her bust. He felt his hips jump up to meet hers almost of their own accord.

"Sorry,” he feebly grunted out.

"S’fine,” she murmured against his neck. As one of her nimble hands grazed the front of his trousers, he let out a hiss. She stopped for a moment and actually looked at him, her big eyes meeting his. She bit her lower lip as if contemplating something.

Hermione would do the same thing sometimes, but instead of looking like she had a million thoughts simultaneously flying around in her clever head, Lavender tended to look as if she only had a couple of rogue bludgers knocking around in her head. Lavender wasn’t stupid or anything, but everyone seemed simple compared to Hermione.

_Stop thinking about Hermione, you absolute wanker!_

Whatever thought Lavender was momentarily wrestling with, she seemed to be over quickly, for she fervently threw herself into their snog with such intensity he thought she might leave bruises. She bit his lip a little too hard, and put her full weight against him. He was forced to lean back until his shoulders were pressed against the wall, leaving his body at an uncomfortable forty five degree angle across the desk.

As he dazedly backed up a bit, Lavender reached her hand under her shirt, as if she had an itch she had to scratch. Ron looked on, highly confused, as she reached up the sleeves of her shirt and fumbled a bit with some strips of fabric she pulled down each arm. Her strange machinations became clear when she finally removed her hands to reveal a pale blue bra hanging from her hand. She displayed it like a Muggle magician did a rabbit, before throwing the garment behind her. Ron knew girls could do this trick as his brothers had mentioned it before, but he’d never seen it in action. All that was separating him from her skin was the thin fabric of her white shirt that left little to the imagination.

“Touch me, Ron,” she whispered.  He let out an involuntary noise and immediately complied, placing both hands firmly on her. One of her fingers unpleasantly scratched its way down his stomach, playing with the hair below his navel. She started fumbling with the fly of his jeans.

“Er… Are you sure you want to…” he trailed off, sounding like he was thirteen again, his voice cracking.

“Don’t you want to?” she purred. She sucked at his neck again, hands still on his fly.

He was very hard, and was having trouble thinking. What bloke wouldn’t want to have a girl, especially one as fit as Lavender, unzip his fly and do who knows what to his undercarriage? On the other hand, this was all happening really fast. He strangely thought of Hermione now, and what she would think about it all. Did she let Krum touch her this way? Would she let McLaggen? He felt his face flush in anger.

Lavender must have taken this as an affirmative blush, because she successfully undid his fly and tried to free him from his jeans. Between his jeans being a tighter pair, and her being on top of him, there was no way she’d manage to get him out without stabbing him with one of her long nails or something equally gruesome.

“Uh, I can—” he offered. She stood up and removed her jeans, leaving her in nothing but a pair of bright pink silky panties and her tight white tee. She smiled invitingly at him, obviously wanting to give him a moment to look over her.

_She’s removed her jeans, does that mean she wanted to… Have sex? No way! With him?_

They’d only been going out for, what, six weeks? This was unexpected, and he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to assume anything. He stared at her some more, taking in her shapely form, smooth legs, and how she was playfully swaying side to side.

She gave one of her giggles, and he gave her a half smile in return. She leaned over— _BLIMEY I can see all the way down her top_!— and grabbed the frayed hem of his jeans and striped them off him. She’d retrieved her wand at some point, and Ron was suddenly nervous.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

Ron didn’t want to close his eyes in the least. What the hell was she going to do with her wand? Then again, it was Lavender. She wasn’t exactly a threatening sort of girl, and he was sitting in his boxers already. What would she really do?

With trepidation, he complied, though he squinted through his lashes, blurily making out some of her movements. With a wave, she locked the door, did a few spells, and the room was a bit lighter than it was before.He opened his eyes to see she had conjured some large pillows to make the desk more comfortable. She had also conjured floating orbs of light which flickered in like candles.

She looked him in the eye, a besotted sort of tenderness in her eyes. Guilt; horrible guilt started to gnaw at him. He heard Hermione tsking in his head at what was possible going to happen. He liked Lavender fine, but he was nowhere close to fancying her that much. She was always a good sort of girl, who fell on the right side of things. She’d joined the D.A.,  had defended Hagrid from Draco, even though she hated his lessons. And she was nice to Ron. She thought he was wonderful, for some reason. He wished Hermione thought he was wonderful.

He wasn’t though, and this situation was proof.

Lavender looked a bit uncertain before she slowly began to remove her top.

 _Oh no..._ _Stop her you idiot!_

Lavender took off her top completely, and all thoughts left his brain. Even the guilt seemed to melt away at this. There she was, right in front of him.   _Naked. Girl. For him. Naked._ She unsurely looked at him.

“Crikey,” Ron groaned out, unable to string together any words.

This was the most skin he’d seen outside of the magazines. His brothers had a group stash of nude magazines they kept hidden beneath a floorboard under a planter on the third landing. Given it was near the twin’s room, he’d barely nicked a magazine more than a few times. The teasing would have been merciless. But he didn’t need to nick a magazine now.

Lavender’s eyes fluttered down to the ground, but she smiled and crawled up him again. Whatever had been stopping him from actively participating seemed to melt away. All Ron could do was touch her, feel every inch of the smooth voluptuous body in front of him. She pulled his face downwards and he complied to the silent command for him to use his mouth. She let out moans that made him respond in kind.

The next few minutes were awkward. Exhausting. Really sweaty. And Ron felt incredible for about a minute or so. Then it was over, and shivers worked their way through his body. His hips stuttered to a halt and he let out a deep breath he’d been holding. As gently as he could he rolled off Lavender and onto his side, back against the wall. Panting and sweaty he closed his eyes for a moment.

It took a moment before Lavender started to move, looking about them. He opened his eyes, and she was looking down at her lap with a disgusted look on her face.

“I’m sorry... I should have-- was it bad?” he asked.

“Oh no, you were wonderful, Won Won,” she said with a dreamy smile. “I’m just looking for my wand. This was just messier than I thought it’d be?”

He pulled a face, not sure if he was more disgusted by the mess or the nickname. _Won Won?_ He hoped that wouldn’t last.

 _Ok then. She said I was wonderful. Does that mean I’m not bad at sex?_ _She didn’t get off though. Am I supposed to do that for her now?_

She had already done a cleaning charm with her wand and was putting on her jeans. He sighed and retrieved his own wand, doing a tiny bit of clean up himself. Lavender was putting on her bra, looked up and gave him that same besotted smile from earlier. Oh yeah… He’d forgotten about that. The guilt from earlier was back in full force. Once they were dressed, he was sitting on the table again, wanting to nap. Or find a time-turner to stop himself from making the biggest mistake he’d ever made. Either would do. She leaned over and gave him a long kiss.

“Oh Ron,” she gushed, putting a hand on his cheek and smiling at him. “I knew I should wait for the one, and I’m so glad I did!”

The one? Oh Merlin… This was way worse than he ever thought it could be. How could she possibly be under that impression? They’d only been dating six weeks. Seeing how she was looking at him, he needed to make sure they never had sex again. What a twat he was. He could have stopped her at any time, but he’d let his cock do the thinking for him. Now he had a girl who had given herself to him, probably thinking he loved her or something, when he loved - _Fancied! -_ another girl.

“You’re going home for the holidays, right?” she asked out of nowhere, banishing the pillows she had conjured and unlocking the door.

“Yeah. Harry will come along like he always does.”

“Maybe instead we could stay at Hogwarts? Spend the holidays together, just the two of us?” she asked, giving him a saucy smile.

“Er, I don’t think my parents would be too keen on that. Ever since this whole You-Know-Who business started back up, they want us all home for the holidays.”

She made a pouting face, but didn’t push it any further. She happily held his hand as they took an aimless route back to Gryffindor Tower. She suddenly made a face and stood stock still. He looked at her, wondering if maybe she’d left something back in the room.

“Is Hermione going to be staying at your home for the holidays?” she asked, looking suspicious.

“What? No… I reckon she’ll be with her parents.”

“You’ve spent a lot of holidays with her before, though, haven’t you?”

Thinking back, Ron had to say yes. He and Hermione had spent every Christmas holiday together since they were twelve. Lavender’s expression was turning dangerous, so he skirted admitting this.

“We’ve spent a few holidays together, yeah. But always with Harry. And not this year.”

“Why not this year?” asked Lavender, crossing her arms.

“I dunno, Lav, she went off with her parents last year too.”

“I know for a _fact_ Hermione spent last Christmas with you! She wasn’t off with her parents last year.”

“Well, she was off with her parents skiing or something, then she came back when my dad was hurt and in hospital.”

“What excuse will make her come over to your house _this_ holiday, then?” asked Lavender, looking put out.

“Oy, it wasn’t an excuse. My dad was hurt! She’s my friend,” Ron said, getting equally cross.

“Friend…” said Lavender slowly, as if she had never heard the word before.

How had this turned into row? They’d just been having sex and she said he was ‘the one,’ and now she was interrogating him him about Hermione’s holiday plans.

He said Hermione was still his friend, and he hoped that remained true. Thinking over what Lavender had said, maybe Lavender was onto something. Maybe he could arrange an accident or something and Hermione would come to the Burrow for Christmas. She’d never be so mad that she wouldn’t make sure he was ok if he was really hurt, right?

“Fine… Fine,” said Lavender giving a sigh. “I trust you.”

“Uh… Ok good,” said Ron, not exactly sure why she was abruptly changing the topic to trust, but whatever would get her off his back was fine by him.

They made their way back to the common room, and she gave him a deep kiss before saying, “Goodnight, Won Won.”

“Night,” he said, hoping she’d stop calling him that. If she thought he’d start calling her Lav Lav, she was mad. He gave a sigh and went to sit next to the fire place for a bit. With a tired ‘oof’ he sank into a settee and stared at the fireplace.

Well, he wasn’t a virgin anymore. That was odd. Did he look different? He didn’t feel all that different, other than the cloud of shame he felt hovering over him. He needed to figure out a way to extricate himself from Lavender, but wasn’t sure how. Them having had sex made it so much worse. He couldn’t chuck her now. They’d just had sex! Tomorrow it was Christmas holidays. Maybe when they got back in January? But that was awfully close to Valentine’s day, which he knew Lavender would flip out over.

_What have you done?_

He put his head in his hands and let the fire warm him as he shuddered.

The portrait hole gave a click, and he looked up to see Hermione. His stomach gave a flip. She looked beautiful. She wore a festive red dress that clung to her perfectly, black stockings and was carrying a un-Hermione-ish pair of red heels. Her hair was down, a bit more tamed than usual, but still wild and gorgeous. She gave a loud sigh and went to the fireplace before giving a choked noise when she saw Ron was there.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped at him.

“Nothing,” he said, raising his hands.

She sat in the chair across from him and crossed her arms and legs.

They sat in silence. Maybe this was when they’d finally make up.

“Have a good time at the party?” Ron asked, trying to keep any bitterness at bay.

“You’d know if you had come with me,” she spat out, her whole body stiff with indignation.

“I know…” he said quietly. He looked across at her, hoping he conveyed a bit of how sorry he was. Her breath caught, and she looked him in the eye for the first time in weeks. “I _do_ hope you had a good time, though.”

She scrunched up her face in that cute little expression she made when she was trying to politely express displeasure.

“It was… interesting.”

“Yeah?” he asked, looking amused.

She gave a hesitant smile, and was about to say something when McLaggen came through the portrait hole.

“Ah, there you are!” McLaggen said, looking mildly put out. “You didn’t say anything. I was asking Harry where you were even!”

Hermione gave McLaggen a forcefully bright smile and rose. Ron did everything he could to look neutral, busying himself with retrieving his chess set.

“Sorry,” Hermione said to McLaggen, tossing her hair over her shoulder.  “My feet were hurting from these heels. Also that vampire kept getting too close for my liking.”

“Well, maybe we can continue the night somewhere else in the castle. Astronomy tower, perhaps?” McLaggen oozed. _Oily sod!_ Ron stared at them, waiting to hear Hermione’s reply.

“No thank you,” said Hermione quickly, taking a step back. She looked back at Ron for a moment before saying, “maybe after our next Slug Club meeting.”

“Ok,” said McLaggen, a smarmy grin taking over his face. “Do you mind if I go back to the party without you?”

“Please do,” she said, looking happy to be rid of him.

He leaned over, grabbed Hermione, and gave her a kiss on the mouth that more resembled a one sided snog, before he waltzed out the portrait hole. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, then quietly made her way to the dormitory stairs.

“Ron?” she asked, almost too quietly to hear.

“Yeah?” he immediately stood and walked to her until he was only a few feet away.

Her eyebrows were creased, and she had that expression she got on her face when sorting out a particularly hard puzzle. She was looking into his eyes, and it took everything in him to not confess everything, apologize for being an idiot, and beg for her to take him back. Her eyes trailed down his face to his lips, then lower still to his neck. Her almost tender expression suddenly turned cold.

“Might want to spell those love-bites away before you see your Mum tomorrow,” she bit out, before fleeing up the stairs.

_Shit._

He’d been so close sorting things out. He went over to a shiny suit of armor and sure enough, Lavender had left her mark on his neck, many times over, like the beginnings of a spattergroit infection.

Feeling thoroughly defeated, he went to bed, not bothering to wait up for Harry. He fell asleep rather quickly, but it was a restless one, filled with visions of Hermione and that cold look on her face. He woke early, long before the rest of his roommates were up, and held his head, elbows resting on his knees. This situation with Hermione was utterly hopeless.

There was no way to fix anything before the break, so he supposed there was no point in dwelling on it. He was about to face the twins and everyone else at home, and really didn’t want the grief they’d give him if he looked as terrible as he felt.

He went to the restroom mirror and checked out the damage to his neck and chest in better lighting. He looked less like he’d had sex and more like he’d been fighting a bunch of pixies with his hands tied behind his back. He got his wand and quickly healed the hickies and scratches as best he could. He’s need some bruise removing paste to finish the job, but a scarf would do the trick until he could find some in the healing cabinet.

He practiced smiling as if nothing was wrong in the mirror. It took a few tries, but he thought he finally managed it. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. He was going to go home and enjoy Christmas, and not think about Hermione once the whole time, if he could help it. With that, he showered, shaved his face, and began to brush his teeth.

“Hey Ron,” said Neville coming into the bathroom. Ron nodded at him, continuing to brush his teeth. “Did you know Hermione went to Slughorn’s party with that berk McLaggen?”

Ron spat and decided to practice his smile.

“Yeah, thanks for the heads up,” he smiled widely, before continuing in forcefully chipper tone.  “Have a happy fucking Christmas, Neville.”

“Er, you too?” Neville stated uncomfortably, as Ron pushed past him into the dorm room, slamming the bathroom door behind him.

“Not so early, ya cunt!” yelled Seamus. Harry and Dean simply grunted in seeming agreement.

Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine. He was going to go home and enjoy Christmas, and not think about Hermione once the whole time.

And he would not kill any of his dorm mates. It was Christmas after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full first time between Ron and Lavender can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17549018)
> 
> Also- c-words get pretty extreme reactions from Americans. Sorry- but irishmen use it like breathing when pissed or sleepy.


	2. Christmas Break

Ron hadn’t had Christmas at home in so long, it caused a child-like giddiness in him to see the tree covered in baubles, and a variety of garlands decorating their small living room. He had opted to stay at Hogwarts for four years straight, and then last year they’d been trapped in Grimmauld place, so this was a welcome change. He had wanted to go home for the holidays a few times, but couldn’t leave Harry all alone in the castle, so each year, he stayed at Hogwarts.

The festive spirit was further muffled by a building tension he couldn’t describe. It was in the way they had to read the paper for deaths; it was in the way they had to ask security questions. It felt like a dissonant noise was growing higher in pitch whenever he stood still. It made Ron’s skin prickle like it did before a lightning strike. Ron was in the know more than the average wizard on what was happening with the Death Eaters, but this went beyond any news he had heard. It felt like all of magic itself was growing more restless in the air.

 Harry didn’t help ease any of the tension. Instead of getting to relax with his friend, Ron had to listen to conspiracy theories about Snape, Draco, and an Unbreakable Vow. He was explaining how the vow worked, telling Harry about the one time Fred had almost tricked Ron into making a Vow, when the twins descended upon them. They were enjoying taking the mickey out of him for having to cut up veggies the Muggle way. George put his feet up on the table, jostling it enough to make Ron cut himself with his kitchen knife.

 “You made me do that!” said Ron, sucking at the bleeding wound. _Damn that smarts_. “You wait, when I’m seventeen —”

“I’m sure you’ll dazzle us all with hitherto unsuspected magical skills,” said Fred with an over exaggerated yawn.

Ron felt his stomach clench. The two of them always knew how to make anyone feel a fool, but Fred had a particular affinity for making Ron feel utterly worthless.

“And speaking of hitherto unsuspected skills, Ronald,” said George, blissfully changing the topic. Ron wasn’t sure if George was purposefully helping him out or not, but he was grateful either way.

“What is this we hear from Ginny about you and a young lady called — unless our information is faulty — Lavender Brown?”

Ron felt himself begin to blush as images of her naked form came to the forefront of his mind. Merlin, if they found out he’d had sex for the first time, they really would be on him like scales on a dragon this break. They’d keep up with their innuendo until Mum caught on, which would definitely ruin Christmas.

“Mind your own business,” Ron said, not wanting to give them ammunition for any more teasing.

“What a snappy retort,” said Fred. “I really don’t know how you think of them. No, what we wanted to know was ... how did it happen?”

Did Ginny somehow know about him and Lavender? Had his loudmouth little sister really told the twins about it?

“What d’you mean?” Ron quickly asked, schooling his face to not give anything away.

“Did she have an accident or something?”

“What?” Ron asked, his voice flat. He had a feeling he knew where this was going now. Thankfully, he seemed to be in the clear as far as the twins knowing how far he’d gone with Lavender. He wished they’d just leave him alone for once in his life; especially Fred! That berk was the worse of the two.

“Well, how did she sustain such extensive brain damage?” Fred smirked. Without a thought, Ron tossed the kitchen knife at his brother. “Careful, now!”

Fred turned the knife into a paper airplane, so there wasn’t even the satisfaction of it hitting the wall.

“Ron!” he heard Mum cry out behind him. “Don’t you ever let me see you throwing knives again!”

“I won’t,” said Ron, “let you see,” he added under his breath.

That night he played Exploding Snap alongside the twins and Ginny while Harry was going on about Snape again with Remus and Dad. He’d hoped to get Harry to relax a little this holiday, but fat chance of that. Harry was always tense about something at Christmas. Philosopher’s Stones, Slytherin heirs, murderous convicts, balls and Tasks, then literal possessions… His mate couldn’t catch a break if he had to.  Somehow they’d convinced Dumbledore to let Harry come home to the Burrow with them this year. It just felt right to have Harry at home with them. They were practically brothers now, after all. If only Hermione were there, then it would really feel like a perfect Christmas.

 Ron hadn’t spent a Christmas without her in years and felt the loss keenly poking at him at all the wrong times. He’d see the garden gnomes, and start thinking of how Crookshanks would play with them, making Hermione laugh. He’d see a spell, and think of how Hermione scrunched up her nose when she did that. He saw Bill cuddled with Fleur, and when her Veela magic wasn’t making Ron lose his head, he’d think of how he and Hermione were so close to being like that. They’d sit next to the fire, every bit as close as the affianced couple, the main difference being that they never got to kiss. But in all other respects, they’d be just that close: thighs touching, Hermione’s head on his shoulder, the smell of her hair invading his senses as they laughed and debated.

How did he go about turning her from a friend to something more? They were so natural together in so many ways, but then that last little bit of… well, _something_ seemed to hold them off from one another. At least it used to.

Ron gave a sigh as the twins said something that made Ginny laugh. Ginny looked up at him, giving him a questioning look. He shook his head. The last person he was interested in talking to was Ginny. On some level, he still blamed her for the falling out he’d had with Hermione, and then she had to tell the Twins of all people about Lavender.

George started talking budget for a possible second Wheezes shop in Hogsmeade, which immediately brought the card game to a halt. As the two spoke business, Fred looking bored by the details George was trying to cover - though neither of them seemed to be putting all that much thought into them. Both were such creative types, it was a bit hard for them to concentrate on the business details, and they quickly got off-topic to laugh about some new product they wanted to make.

Seeing the twins were thoroughly distracted by each other, Ginny grabbed Ron’s elbow and pulled him into the kitchen. He wanted to protest but didn’t have it in him. He grabbed the platter of Christmas biscuits and poured himself some milk before sitting at the table.

“So, you’ve been quiet,” Ginny said, watching him closely.

“Makes one of us,” Ron retorted, snapping the head off a gingerbread man.

“What do you mean?”

“Why’d you have to go and tell the twins about Lavender?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound too pleading.

“They ask me what’s going on, and I tell them. It’s not my fault you’re dating someone so embarrassing,” she said defiantly, before snapping a biscuit in half and dunking it in his milk.

“She’s not embarrassing…” Ron said, knowing it sounded false.

Ginny lifted her eyebrows in return.

“Fine, sometimes she’s a bit much right now… But she’s a good girl in general, you have to admit.”

“She normally is, yeah,” Ginny acknowledged, “but _you_ have to admit her personality took a nosedive the moment she started squealing over you.”

Ron did nothing to acknowledge this. He knew it was true, but he wasn’t about to admit it to his little sister. Lavender _had_ been a lot cooler before they got together. She was a member of Dumbledore’s Army for Merlin’s sake. That meant a lot. She believed Harry when a lot of people didn’t. And she was always kind to him. She still was, come to think of it. She might be quite silly a lot of the time with him now, but she was nice. She always had nice things to say to him. She really believed in him, when no one else did. It was nice to be believed in.

“You know,” said Ginny, “you have a lot of nerve wanting privacy about Lavender when you’ve practically been mounting her in public.”

“I’ve not!”

“You have!” said Ginny giving him a far from a painless punch in the shoulder. “ _And_ you tattled to the twins about me and Dean.”

“Fine, I’m a filthy hypocrite, you happy?” Ron said, scooting the tray of biscuits her way.

“Somewhat,” Ginny said with a smile. She grabbed a Santa Claus gingerbread man and walked it across the table before dunking it head first into Ron’s glass of milk. “But that doesn’t address why you’ve been brooding as bad as Harry tonight.”

Ron quietly sat back to look his little sister in the eye. She was earnestly eyeing him with curiosity and didn’t look like she was in one of her moods to make his life hell. Mind made up he took a breath and asked, “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Sure,” said Ginny, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“No, I mean it. Not _anyone_.”

Ron looked about the kitchen to make sure they were sufficiently alone.

“Sure, Ron, ‘ _not anyone_ ,’” she said with a small scoff, biting off the head of Father Christmas.

“If you’re not going to take it seriously--”.

“Fine fine!” she said, staying him with a hand, as he rose from the table. “I solemnly swear I won’t tell anyone anything said at this table. I promise.”

“Alright,” said Ron, giving another look towards to doors before sitting. He gruffly whispered, “I miss Hermione.”

“That’s really sweet, Ron, but it’s not exactly a secret,” said Ginny slowly, taking his glass of milk and taking a long gulp.

“You’re the first I’ve told!” said Ron. “And if you want milk, get your own! Stop stealing mine.”

She gave a defiant glare before finishing the whole glass off in one long chug.

“Want some advice, Ron?” she said, wiping her mouth. He warily nodded. “If you miss Hermione so badly, tell her that.”

“What? I can’t do that!” Ron protested.

“Why not?”

“She hates me!”

“She doesn’t,” said Ginny with a shake of her head.

“Well, she’s doing an awfully good impression of it, then,” said Ron. He crossed his arms and though back to the cold angry look Hermione had given him before the night before they’d left. She most definitely hated him now.

“Ditching Lavender might go a ways with her,” said Ginny.

“And why should I do that?” asked Ron, feeling his stubbornness rear its ugly head.

“Well that’s why she’s mad at you,” Ginny retorted, looking as if she had solved some great mystery for him.

“And so I’m supposed to remain single for Hermione, is that it?” said Ron, anger coursing through him.

“Well, you’re only going out with Lavender to make Hermione jealous, after all.”

“That is the most… My going out with Lavender has nothing to do with Hermione!”

“Of course it does! I tell you Hermione snogged Krum and then you treated her like absolute shite. A few days later you’re snogging Lavender Brown. You don’t see a correlation there?”

“You are abso-bloody-lutely infuriating, you are!” spat Ron, hardly able to say a word. He took a moment to gather his thoughts as his sister glared across the table at him. “I’m not going out with Lavender to make Hermione jealous. Hermione might dangle her dates in front of me to get a rise, but I’m not doing this for anyone but me.”

Ginny let out an unladylike snort. “You want to be with _Lavender?”_

“Why wouldn’t I?” replied Ron, defiant. He raised a hand to stop her from telling him the failings of Lavender. “I have a girl who is interested in me. Who seems to think I’m great, for some reason. And I’m supposed to just ditch her? For what? What am I ditching her for, exactly?”

“For Hermione!” Ginny let out.

“Hermione…” Ron growled, pacing away.

“Fine, continue being an arse then,” said Ginny moving to get up from the table.

“You really think I’ve done something wrong here, don’t you?” Ron asked with a mirthless laugh. “I haven’t done _anything_ wrong! If Hermione wanted to go out with me, she had every chance to, but she didn’t. I may have given her shite about going out with Krum, but I _never_ stopped being friends with her over it. I have every right to go out with a pretty girl who believes in me, who is nice to me, and who doesn’t set birds on me.”

He put his hands in his pockets and stared out the window. He couldn’t see much. Just a bit of the waxing moonlight reflecting off the snow, and the stars looking especially bright. “I just want to be friends again with Hermione again... ”

Ginny sat watching him a long time. He could see her reflection in the window out of the corner of his eye. She got up and put an arm around him.

“Ok,” said Ginny, quietly giving him a squeeze. “I won’t tell you to break up with Lavender again.”

Ron looked down at her and could see she was in earnest.

“Lavender might be a bit--” began Ginny, pulling a face. “Well, that doesn’t matter. You deserve to have your fun with someone who likes you. I’m glad she makes you feel good about yourself.”

Some of the tension seemed to ease from his shoulders. Thinking back, the two hadn’t really gotten on since he’d found her and Dean snogging in the hallways and had one of the worst rows in their history. They’d both been quite out of line that night. He supposed it made sense that they’d make it right on Christmas Eve.

“And I’ll not give you grief about Dean,” Ron vowed. He hated saying it, but it was only right.

The two siblings smiled at each other for a moment.  A silent apology seemed to pass between them.

“Do you want me to try and get Hermione to ease up on you?” Ginny asked, looking sympathetic.

“Naw… If Harry can’t get her to, I doubt you can…”

“Well… Maybe when the break is over, if you try to _not_ snog in front of her, and really try to be nice it’ll work?”

“It can’t make things any worse,” Ron agreed. Though extricating himself from Lavender might be hard. Part of him thought Ginny was right. He should just break up with Lavender. He didn’t really fancy her. He just liked how she made him feel. That wasn’t enough of a reason to date a girl, was it? On the other hand, he had never intentionally disappointed someone he liked in his life. The thought of hurting Lavender made him feel sick to his stomach. For now, he’d continue to go out with her. He’d just have to slowly disengage physically.

He and Ginny went back into the living room to find Fleur doing a cruel, but accurate impression of “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love.” Their mother watched the impression with a thunderous glare. Wanting to end the evening before a row broke out, everyone decided to go their separate directions. Bill and Fleur took their time saying goodbye, blocking the landing until Ginny loudly cleared her throat, looking murderous. None of the women he knew seemed to like Fleur, and Ron wasn’t quite sure why. She might be a little holier-than-thou, but it definitely wasn’t enough to deserve the ire she got every other second. He’d keep these thoughts to himself, though. He and his sister had finally reached an accord, and that was far more important than trying to make Ginny like Fleur.

He and Harry climbed all the way to his room, both falling asleep rather quickly.

The next morning Ron woke to a faint knocking on his window. His window was almost completely obscured by snow, but there, at the top of the window, was an unfamiliar owl staring him in the eye. He squinted and found the owl had a package held in its feet. Quietly, he opened the window. In distinctly feminine loops, the package’s label read:

 _  
_ _To Ron_

_Love, Lavender._

With a start, Ron realized he hadn’t gotten her anything for Christmas.

“Wait right there!” he whispered the owl.

He tiptoed to the end of the bed and frantically went through his bulging stocking at the end of his bed. He found a variety of sweets that could make an alright present, shoved them into an old Gryffindor Quidditch jersey of his and haphazardly tied it with a bit of twine he had in the corner. The owl holding Lavender’s present began to get antsy and made a soft hooting sound.

“Shhh!”

Ron got out a quill and quickly wrote off a note:

_Thank you for the gift! I’m glad I had a way to get mine to you. Pig overate last night or I would’ve sent it sooner. Have a happy Christmas! -Ron_

Finally finished, he blew on the parchment to dry the ink then shoved it into the jersey. He gave the owl one of Pig’s treats and then exchanged the gifts.

“Take this back to her, would you?”

The owl seemed happy to be rid of his presence and took off immediately.

Now wide awake, Ron decided there was no point in trying to kip a bit longer in bed. He had lied to Lavender, of course. He couldn’t have her think he forgot her when she sent him something on Christmas as she had.

Though, it was true Pig wasn’t available to deliver a gift to Lavender. Ron had sent him off the day before with his gift for Hermione. She hadn’t told him if she was staying home or going on a holiday, and Ron hadn’t dared ask Harry. He’d told Pig to hang about, though, hoping it would get her to think of him and perhaps soften a bit towards him.

Looking towards Harry’s bed Ron mollified to discover Hermione hadn’t seemed to send Harry anything yet. He wondered if Hermione was sending anyone a gift like Lavender had. Was she sending off gifts to Krum or McLaggen? He thought she looked unhappy with McLaggen the other night, but then again, she _had_ offered to ‘continue the evening’ after a Slug Club meeting.

The thought of her with that idiot made his fist clench.

_Stop thinking about Hermione!_

He needed to concentrate on his girlfriend. That was the ticket. Hopefully Lavender sent him some sweets that would replace the ones he had sent her.

The packaging was quite sleek, with thick purple and shiny gold paper carefully held in place with spellotape. It smelled vaguely like Lavender’s perfume. He quietly unfolded the paper, so as not to wake Harry. Next was a white box he opened. He pushed aside the paper and…

Merlin’s saggy left nut.

What the hell had she sent him? His spine seemed to stiffen as he looked in the box.

“She’s got to be joking…” Ron let out, much louder than he’d meant to.

He’d woken Harry who was putting on his glasses. Normally he’d feel a bit bad for waking his friend up so early, but at this moment, he was glad to have another witness to the atrocity before him: a golden chain that read _My Sweetheart._

Harry squinted at the gift before giving a huge laugh. Ron held the necklace out and had trouble swallowing.

“Nice,” Harry guffawed. “Classy. You should definitely wear it in front of Fred and George.”

Ron’s eye widened at the idea of the twins finding out. They’d make his life complete hell. He couldn’t banish it with magic or lie and say it had gotten lost in the mail, as he’d already told Lavender he’d received it. Not wanting to get up, he settled for hiding it deep below his pillow.

“If you tell them, I — I — I’ll —”

“Stutter at me?” said Harry, a gleeful smile on his git’s face. “Come on, would I?”

If anything, Harry was discreet. Thank goodness she hadn’t sent it later in the day. The thought made him shudder. He wondered aloud why she would send an item so horrible it was hard to believe it actually was created in the first place, much less given to him.

“Think back. Have you ever let it slip that you’d like to go out in public with the words ‘My Sweetheart’ round your neck?” Harry said with another laugh.

“We don’t really talk much.”

Saying it out loud made Ron’s guilt return in full force. Going out with her was supposed to make him feel good, wasn’t it?

“It’s mainly ...”

“Snogging,” Harry finished for him.

“Well, yeah,” said Ron. He and Lavender’s dynamic was quite the opposite of his and Hermione’s.  With Lavender they were almost always entwined and snogging, but rarely did they have a real conversation. As fun as it was, not one of their snogs seemed to mean as much as even an argument about homework with Hermione. Engaging with Hermione was so easy and fun. She’d get that little look on her face, where she was fighting a grin, and he’d feel like the world lit up. When she actually did smile for him, the world burst open. He never felt happier than when she laughed and smiled for him. It tore at him to think of her talking and smiling with McLaggen.

“Is Hermione really going out with McLaggen?” he asked Harry, hoping the ‘date’ he’d witnessed was truly just a one-off.

“I dunno,” said Harry. “They were at Slughorn’s party together, but I don’t think it went that well.”

What sort of a friend was Harry being that he didn’t know? But, then again, Ron didn’t know either. He’d really have to make Harry be a better friend to Hermione while he was on sabbatical in Lavenderland. They got dressed and made their way downstairs.

Everyone had their Weasley jumper on as they gathered at the table. Even Remus had a jumper this Christmas. The only person missing a jumper was Fleur.

Thinking back to his gifts, it hadn’t been a bad haul this year, besides the necklace. At least he hadn’t received maggots like Harry had from Kreacher. Somehow Hermione seemed to care about the little blighter, which Ron couldn’t fathom. How could anyone care about the most malicious little cretin in the world? He wasn’t a sweet Dobby or as pathetic Winky. He wasn’t a helpful Hogwarts elf. He was just awful, calling Hermione a number of things as she tried to show him compassion. But that was Hermione for you. She was always so caring about everything and--

Fleur gave a shutter over a maggot in Harry’s hair. Her quiver somehow made Ron suddenly need to ply her with food.

“Gravy, Fleur?” The gravy went flying from his hands, but Bill was able to effortlessly clean it up, saving Ron from being even more embarrassed.

He had no idea why Fleur seemed to make him worse than any of the other men in the house, but she did. Hell, she hit him harder than anyone else at Hogwarts two years ago. With a shake of his head, he went back to his food, glad that the twins hadn’t seen fit to tease him over it.

“Arthur!” his Mum suddenly cried out. She stood and clutched at herself, and Ron had the fleeting thought she’d been poisoned. But her gaze was too pointed for that to be the case. Her eyes were starting to water. “Arthur-- It’s Percy!”

While a few people scrambled to get up from their seats, Ron had no intention of moving. He didn’t think he could if he tried. The last he’d heard from Percy had been a letter ordering him to ditch Harry. He’d nearly died at the Ministry of Magic but hadn’t heard a word from his brother. No one had.

When they were young, Ron had never gotten along all that well with Percy. He was always bossing Ron about, as he couldn’t get any of the other siblings to listen. The twins were a terror no one could truly tame, and Ginny was spoiled rotten, being the only girl-- so it left Ron to be scolded, checked on, blamed for things, and generally putting up with their tightly wound brother. As much as Ron was aggravated by Percy, there was something nice about being the one doted upon. He might have gotten the lion’s share of lectures, but having any sort of attention was rather novel in their home, for Ron at least. They also didn’t quite fit in with the rest of the family like the rest did. Where Ron was the least special, Percy was the most odd-fitting-- leaving them the ones no one wanted. There was an odd sort of camaraderie in it.

There was an unspoken bond between them Ron couldn’t escape, even when he most wanted to. He’d learnt chess from Percy and mostly learned to read thanks to him too. He got most of his clothes from Percy too, since they were the same build. He’d even gotten Scabbers from him. Though the memory of Pettigrew still made Ron want to hurl, he didn’t really think of the rat as being Pettigrew all that time. It was just a rat his brother had given him, and it had made Ron feel so special that Percy had chosen _him_ to receive the pet _._ Not Ginny, who always got gifts from others, especially ‘cute ones’ like their stuffed animals. Not the twins (though Ron suspected it was because Percy knew they’d kill the rat with all their experiments.) Percy had ignored them all, and given his beloved pet to his littlest brother Ron. He might have been a fat and useless pet, but he was all Ron’s.

The door opened, and there stood his brother. He hadn’t changed much in the past year and a half. He wore the same horn-rimmed specs, still had his hair meticulously combed into place, and still was tall and thin. Ron reckoned they were about the same height now. Percy was wearing his fancy office robes, which wildly contrasted with the warm and brightly colored jumpers everyone else (sans Fleur) was wearing.

“Merry Christmas, Mother,” Percy ground out as Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic himself, limped into their cramped home. He said some bullshit about Percy wanting them to drop in, but it was an obvious ploy to get something. Ron just couldn’t figure out what. What would bring the Minister of Magic to their small home?

Percy refused to look at any of the rest of them and didn’t even say a syllable in greeting. Mum hadn’t seemed to register anything amuck, hugging Percy, and offering food to the Minister. As she tarried about the room, everyone else was frozen. Harry and Fleur awkwardly grimaced as they watched the scene unfold. Bill and Remus seemed more concerned with the Minister than Percy and were eyeing him with suspicion. Ginny looked thoroughly lost, unsure if she should be like Mum and welcome Percy with open arms, or take up with Dad and the Twins, who grimly starred at the interloping Weasley.

As for Ron, he felt much like Ginny looked. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he longed to have his brother back. As much as he bemoaned being related to such a prick, Percy was family. It wasn’t right for there to be this stupid barrier between them.

He stared at his brother, willing him to look back for just a moment, to give any indication he still cared about them at all. His brother remained stony-faced, even as their Mum kissed him on the cheek.

The Minister said some bunk about Percy catching up with them (fat chance!) when suddenly he turned his attention to Harry. He baldly pretended as if he didn’t know who Harry was and invited him for a ‘stroll in the garden.’ There it was. That was why the Minister was here. He wanted Harry for something.

A palpable tension fell over the room. His Dad and Remus looked ready to pounce in front of Harry, and Ron felt the same inclination. What the devil did he want with Harry? For once, Harry had been keeping his head down. There hadn’t been anything about him in the news, and no battles, tournaments or interviews that thrust him into the spotlight. What was Scrimgeour playing at?

Harry set his shoulders, in that way he did when he was about to face something nasty, and gave quick assurances that it was fine. In moments The Boy-Who-Lived and the Minister of Magic were in the garden, leaving Percy with the rest of them.

Mum was trying to give him another hug, but his brother twisted out of her outstretched arms without a glance at their mother. Percy’s eyes ignored the entire family, and were trained on the door he desperately wanted to flee through. He’d never particularly wanted to spend time with the family, but this was a whole new level of coldness.

“How dare you!” Dad exploded just seconds after the door closed. “Using us to hand Harry over to the Minister? We raised you better than this.”

“The hell, Percy?” “You’re a right prat!” cried the Twins. Ron didn’t care which said what.

He wanted an explanation from his brother. Even a glance of regret would suffice. Anything to justify selling out Harry the way he had. Percy remained perfectly still, his jaw clenched as he silently weathered their words.

“Percy?” Remus' calm and soft-spoken voice broke the tension. “What does the Minister want with Harry?”

For the first time since he’d entered the Burrow, Percy made eye contact with someone.

“You’re not my professor anymore, Mr. Lupin, and I don’t have to answer any questions about this matter,” Percy let out rather succinctly.

“And that’s all you have to say for yourself?” said Dad rising from the table, looking furious. “That’s the only explanation you’re giving us? I never thought I’d live to see my own son act like such a coward.”

“Now, Arthur!” Mum pleaded, trying to keep the peace, but she was too late.

Percy was staring Dad dead in the eye and the two were getting closer to each other with Mum in between.

“I’m no coward! I’m demonstrating my diligence and showing loyalty to the Ministry, which is much more than you’ve been doing!”

“Loyalty?” said Dad. his ears going red, voice dropping to a frozen whisper.  “You’ve turned your back on every single value we’ve raised you with, and every single one of us. You can’t prioritize a job over the well-being of your family, as you have.”

“That’s big talk for a man that always put his job over his family’s well-being. We could barely afford new shoes and school supplies, but hey, Arthur Weasley got to have fun piddling about with Muggles. You never stop to think about the impact of that, do you? We were all in rags through Hogwarts, and Ron even had a broken wand for a year, but you didn’t even try to replace it--”

“Leave me out of this!” Ron cried out, but neither of them spared him a glance.

“You don’t know the first thing about loyalty to friends or family, Percy. You betrayed them every day you ignored our warnings about Voldemort for a year, and did little to check in with any of us when you knew our lives were in danger.”

“You know what? I was wrong to say you care most about your job,” Percy said so quietly, Ron could barely hear it. “I saw how little you cared about your job last year, with all the skulking about the Department of Mysteries for Dumbledore… And then, five months later, two of your kids nearly died there because they were following Harry around in that same place. I guess it goes Dumbledore, job, Harry Potter, then the welfare of your children?”

“Oh you suddenly care about your siblings, do you? Is that why you’ve not contacted any of them, even after your youngest nearly died?”

“At least I wasn’t involving them in dangerous business kids shouldn’t be involved in! What were you even _doing_ for Dumbledore?”

“That is business for _family_ to know about. Seeing as you don’t want to be a member of our family anymore, I will not answer any questions about this matter!” Dad seethed, his face quite red as he poked Percy in the chest. “Unless your attitude changes you are not welcome here.”

“Oh, believe me, I don’t want to be welcome in this crumbling antique of a pig’s pen. I don’t want to spend one more second with _any_ of --”

Before Percy could finish his sentence mashed parsnips flew at him from several directions, some splattering his glasses. No one laughed as mash dripped down his face. Percy went purple.

“Fine! It’s all a great big joke to you all! I work as hard as I can to make something of myself, fighting off the horrible reputation Dad’s made for us, calling him out for things you’re all too cowardly to say. I work so damned hard, and none of you ever care or give an ounce of credit to me. You treat Potter more like family than you ever did me and eff off to piddle around with that Machiavellian Dumbledore. You’ll see how wrong you’ve been and you’re all going to be sor--”

Percy’s words were cut off by a silencing spell. Bill was holding his wand aloft and looking as angry as Ron had ever seen him.

“You’re not going to say one more thing about this family,” Bill said with piercing deliberation. “Now shut it and wait for your boss to come get you.”

Mum let out a sob as Percy silently stomped out the door, not bothering to wipe the parsnip mash from himself. Harry and Percy nearly collided in the doorway, and both looked equally angry with the people they were fleeing.

Without a word, whether it was due to the silencing spell still being up, or because Percy had nothing to say to his family-- he practically ran across the field to his precious Minister and Apparated away.

Mum’s crumpled where she stood, barely finding her seat as she began to cry in earnest. Dad stormed out of the house, unable to contain his rage, making a beeline for his shack as he always did when emotional. Bill quickly knelt beside their mother and pulled her into the living room, but her weeping rang through house despite her change in location.

Fleur immediately set herself to housework, avoiding looking at any of them. She got a cloth and painstakingly began cleaning up mashed parsnip, despite spells being a much easier and faster way to clean such a mess.

“Well, for someone so repressed, he sure knows how to make a scene,” said Fred, throwing himself into a chair.

“Which of you hit him with those parsnips?” asked Harry.

“I did!” Fred, George, and Ginny said at once. All four of them gave a laugh, but Ron couldn’t bring himself to join them. Percy’s words were reverberating in his head too loudly to laugh.

After the laughter died down, Harry’s expression fell into a mask of misery.

“You alright, Harry?” Ron asked. Remus seemed just as keen to know.

“Yeah…” Harry sighed, looking guilty and world-weary as a particularly loud sob from Mum punctuated the air. George put up a spell, and suddenly they couldn’t hear their Mum at all.

“That’s much better. Thank you, George,” said Remus, sitting beside Harry.

“No prob, Professor,” said George as he sat down as well. No one seemed particularly interested in the delicious meal on the table.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Harry said gesturing around them. “It’s my fault Christmas got ruined.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry-- it was all Percy’s doing!” Ginny spat, practically hissing like an angry cat.

“Seriously, mate. Scrimgeour showing up for you didn’t ruin our meal-- Percy’s prat face did,” Ron said, hoping they could curtail Harry from entering another one of his guilt-ridden tailspins. “Want some tea?”

“Er, sure,” Harry said with a shrug. Mum and Dad could probably use a cuppa anyways, so Ron was content to occupy himself making tea for everyone. He didn’t have time to be upset over Mum crying, the uncomfortable truths Percy said, or how Dad didn’t bother to comfort anyone before retreating to his shop. Ron was too busy making tea and keeping Harry grounded, to think about any of that. Ginny and the twins began to put away the food and do dishes.

Only Lupin and Harry remained at the table, both looking equally troubled.

“What was it that Scrimgeour wanted from you, Harry? He didn’t threaten you or anything, did he?” Remus asked calmly. That was one thing that set Lupin apart from the other adults. He always had his wits about him, no matter how upset he was. Though Ron had to admit, their ex-professor was looking much worse for wear than usual.

“He probably would have liked to hex me by the end of our chat,” Harry groused. “But no, he didn’t threaten me… He said now that there’s all this ‘Chosen One’ guff going around, he wants me to look like I’m working alongside the Ministry. He couldn’t care less what I actually _do_ there; just that he wants me there so the public feels like he’s winning the war against Voldemort. Said it was my ‘duty.’”

Ron nearly spilled the tea as he harshly set it on the table.

“After all the Ministry has done to you, he has some nerve waltzing in here asking you to do a publicity stunt for them,” Ron let out, not sure if he was more angry at the Minister for imposing himself on Harry, or Percy, for giving the man access to Harry through their family wards.

“Yeah, well, I said ‘No’ to that, didn’t I?” Harry said with a small smile.

“Of course you did! I hope you gave him some shit over that trumped up hearing, or how that hag Umbridge tortured you last year,” Ron growled.

“Tortured you?” Lupin asked.

“Look at his hand,” Ron said grabbing Harry’s hand and thrusting it under Lupin’s nose. “Blood Quill. Made him write ‘I must not tell lies’ about Voldemort being back all year on behalf of the Ministry. And now this filthy sod is trying to use him like last year didn’t happen? Fuck that!”

Remus smirked and Ron muttered a quick apology for cursing in front of him.

“While I may not phrase it that way, I can agree with those sentiments,” said Lupin, looking to Harry. “This just shows how poorly things are going, for the Minister to make a desperate play for your attention like this. I imagine he also wanted some insight into Dumbledore’s plans.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, with a roll of his eyes. “I wouldn’t tell him anything and he called me ‘Dumbledore’s Man through and through.’ Didn’t seem too pleased with either of us, really.”

“Sod him and Percy too. If they want to use you, they’ll have to go through me first,” Ron spat, feeling a roaring in his ears.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” said Lupin, having some of the tea Ron had made.

“Thanks mate,” Harry sighed, as he rubbed his eyes under his glasses, leaving them smudged. “What’d Percy have to say?”

“Not Happy Effing Christmas, I’ll tell you that,” said Ron, feeling mulish.

They didn’t talk about Percy the rest of the day. His father eventually came back inside, his mother’s tears dried up, and the luncheon that had been ruined by Percy was eventually polished off that evening.

Ron had trouble sleeping, even though he had eaten enough to make him dozy quite early in the evening. Harry had seemingly taken the Scrimgeour thing in stride, but Ron was livid. He wished Hermione were there to talk it over with. Or talk to her about Percy, and how much it hurt to have his brother say those things about his family. Or even talk to about the plight of evil house elves like Kreacher. He missed having her desperately.

Harry was his best mate, but he was crap at talking feelings, and Ron was no better. It’s not that Ron and Hermione sat and talked about their inner angst exactly… It wasn’t like that at all. She just would _get_ him when he’d tell her things, and could basically talk out his feelings for him. He’d give her a yay or nay to let her know if she was right, and then she’d continue talking about his feelings, and it’d be almost as if he had told her everything in his soul, only he’d barely said anything. That was the beauty of Hermione. She could talk about anything with him. Well, anything except _them._ Whatever was happening between Ron and Hermione was the one topic they avoided at all costs. He didn’t know what would happen if he tried to talk that out with her. Well, right now she’d probably hex his knob off and have his testicles wrapped as a Christmas gift for Kreacher. With that unpleasant thought, Ron finally fell into a fitful sleep.

The next few days were torture, with Mum bursting out crying at the drop of a hat, and everyone else avoiding the topic of Percy like the plague, so as not to set Dad or Mum off. Ron felt like he was trapped in a room with a whistling teakettle, but there was no way to get it off the heat.

It was finally time to go back to Hogwarts, and Ron was actually pleased to be returning to his studies. Anything had to be better than the Burrow right then. Plus, it would give him a chance to make nice with Hermione!

Mum cried over them all as they left, and he wanted to kick himself for mentioning Percy in front of her. He’d hoped to make her feel better saying not to miss them or Percy but as usual, he’d stepped in it when trying to help. He never was good at helping people when they were emotional. Well, he was alright with de-escalating Harry a lot of the time, but the moment a woman started crying or his family started rowing in earnest, he’d just want to retreat until things were calmer. No one he knew was much good at retreating and calming down, though. Most of them would sit and stew on it forever until you came back and apologized. Ron was happy to apologize first, even if he wasn’t really wrong, just to get peace back. He couldn’t do that with Hermione this time, though. He just couldn’t.

Ginny, Harry, and Ron traveled to Hogwarts by Floo, appearing in McGonagall’s office. The cold post-Christmas halls seemed rather naked without their Christmas decorations.

At the common room entrance, they found the Fat Lady looking pale and out of it.

“Baubles,” said Ron, not wanting to waste another moment in the freezing halls.

“No,” she bit out.

“What d’you mean, ‘no’?”

“There is a new password,” she said with a wince. “And please don’t shout.”

“But we’ve been away, how’re we supposed to — ?”

“Harry! Ginny!”

Ron turned to see Hermione, looking lovely and flushed from the cold. Her curls bounced about her shoulders as she ran towards them. She had snowflakes clinging to her cloak still, and he had to stop himself from brushing them off her.

“I got back a couple of hours ago, I’ve just been down to visit Hagrid and Buck — I mean Witherwings,” she said breathlessly. She was talking to him! She was talking to him! He had never felt such elation from innocuous chatter in his life. He glanced over at Ginny who shared an encouraging smile with him.

“Did you have a good Christmas?” she asked, with that sweet open expression he had been missing for months.

“Yeah,” said Ron, smiling back. “Pretty eventful, Rufus Scrim —”

“I’ve got something for you, Harry,” said Hermione, cutting him off. She didn’t spare him a glance or even act as if she knew he was there. It was like he was wearing Harry’s invisibility cloak. He stared down at her face as she said the new password ‘abstinence’ in an uncharacteristically breezy manner.

Was she the one who had suggested that password? It seemed like such a Hermione move. They followed her into the over-full common room as she rambled on about something to Harry.

“She’ll come round,” Ginny said in an undertone, no one could hear over the din of noise. Ron shook his head, feeling quite hopeless about the matter. Hermione had made her point. She was going to ignore him and had almost definitely made a passive-aggressive play with that password.

“Let’s sit down —” said Harry, entreating all of them, but whether this would have worked to bring peace between Hermione and Ron, they would never know.

Lavender let out the loudest rendition of “Won-Won!” that had ever existed. She slammed into him more forcefully than Ron expected, and he let out a grunt as his arms were suddenly occupied with her curves. He looked over her head to see a few people laughing at them, but the clincher was Hermione. She gave a light laugh that made his stomach fall, before walking away as if this meant nothing to her.

“I loved my Christmas gift,” Lavender whispered in his ear. “I’m wearing it now, actually!”

“Oh-- uh, good. Great! Yeah…” he said, still a bit dazed. She opened her jacket to reveal his Quidditch Jersey stretched across her in a very becoming way.

“Did you like your gift?” she asked, looking a bit uncertain as she bit her lip. Not knowing how to answer her question, he leaned down and kissed her. The angles were all wrong with her in his arms like this, and he knew he must have looked an idiot, but it was better than her knowing how truly atrocious he found her gift. The guilt that had plagued him before was back. He wanted this to be Hermione kissing him, not Lavender. But Hermione was over by the fireside and wanted nothing to do with him. She wasn’t even acting jealous anymore.

The poorly angled kiss ended, leaving both Lavender and Ron flushed. She smiled rather prettily at him and led him over to a seat she had saved for them. The chair was only truly big enough for one person, but she was able to sit partially in his lap with her legs draping over his.

“How was your break?” she asked, brushing some of his hair behind his ear, making him feel overly warm.

“Well…” Ron thought back to it. Could he talk to her about any of this? Most of it was Order business or Harry’s… How much could he ever really tell her about his home life? Then again, he no longer had anyone else to talk to about it. And she was smiling at him so earnestly, like she really saw him. “It was rather miserable, actually.”

“Oh no! What happened?” she asked, all compassion and kindness. No one had shown this kind of concern for him in he couldn't remember how long. No one ever really listened like this.

He quickly told her about the estrangement from Percy, and some of the cruel things Percy had said, how his brother hadn’t even glanced at him the whole time.

“Ron, I’m so sorry. It must be so hard to have someone you care about not even want to spend Christmas with you and ignore you like that!”

Ron’s mind zoomed to Hermione for a moment, but he shook his head of her. He was with Lavender now, and she was being surprisingly great at the whole ‘supportive listener’ thing.

“Er-- yeah… It has been hard…” Ron admitted, not able to articulate it any better. He was unused to someone wanting to hear about his emotions. Hermione would explain them to him, but Lavender wanted him to actually talk about them, something he hadn’t ever done in his life.

“Well, we’ll just have to turn this last bit of break around for you, then!” said Lavender brightly, before she tickled him a bit, getting him to smile at her.

“What’d you have in mind?” he asked, feeling more at ease than he had in days.

“We can always visit that room we went to last time,” she said, looking down at his chest and smiling to herself. “If- if you want to.”

She was looking so shy, and cute, that he found himself saying, “Sure,” before he could stop himself.

Her eyes brightened and she hopped out of his lap to lead him from the common room with an extra bounce. Her hair was looking rather pretty, down and perfectly smooth as it swayed with her steps. He should say something nice to her.

“Your hair looks nice,” said Ron, feeling ridiculous the moment it came out of his mouth.

She turned about and snogged him where he stood, and he had to take a step back to properly hold her and not topple.

“And you look handsome,” she purred, giving him a tight hug around the middle.

Maybe dating Lavender didn’t need to fill him with guilt anymore. Though the way to their secret room was long and winding, the halls didn’t feel so cold any more with Lavender by his side.


	3. The Highest Branch

A new year brought new beginnings, or at least it was supposed to. So far 1997 was turning out to be the worst year ever, and Ron was only six days into it. A sign portending apparition lessons had been posted in the common room overnight.  

_APPARITION LESSONS_

_If you are seventeen years of age, or will turn seventeen on or before the 31st August next, you are eligible for a twelve-week course of Apparition Lessons from a Ministry of Magic Apparition instructor. Please sign below if you would like to participate. Cost: 12 Galleons._

All the sixth years were gathered around the sign excitedly yammering about the lessons. One by one they grabbed quills and began signing their names, but Ron pretended he needed to tie his shoe instead.

It would cost twelve galleons. Where was he supposed to get that sort of money? He only had a few sickles to his name, and didn’t want to even imagine the look on his mother’s face as she read a letter asking about it.

Someone’s leg caught on his elbow and they let out a small cry of surprise as they tripped over him.

“Sorry,” Ron said automatically to whoever it was he’d tripped. He stood up to see Hermione glaring at him. She threw her hair over her shoulder and Ron caught a full whiff of it. She was wearing perfume. Not just any perfume. The perfume he had given her last year! She began to sign her name in her usual even script, which gave him ample time to watch her a moment. Her hair was in a wild state that made his pulse rush, and she was biting at her lip as she finished writing. She glanced at him and put some of her curls behind her ear.

“You can sign up now,” she said. She wasn’t glaring at him. Her face was blissfully neutral! Right now that was almost as good as a smile.

“Er, yeah, thanks.”

Maybe they could walk to class together if he hurried. Ron quickly rummaged through his bag for a quill. He raised his quill to sign when a pair of hands slipped over his eyes. Lavender pressed herself into his back so hard his quill pierced the paper. His ears began to burn as a few people laughed at him.

“Guess who, Won-Won!” Lavender sang out.

“McGonagall?”

“You’re so funny,” Lavender giggled, before sneaking around and blocking him from signing the paper.

“You too,” he distractedly mumbled, putting his hands on her shoulders and moving her to the side so he could finally sign the damned thing.

Out of the corner of his eye Hermione was stomping away. No! They’d almost been ok! He could fix this, though. He and Hermione had almost had a moment, and he was not going to miss out on one second of a possible reconciliation.

“Where are you going, Ron?”

“Food,” he grunted, extracting himself to catch up with Hermione. He ran out the portrait hole, and found her walking with Harry. It was like old times for all of three seconds, before Hermione silently marched ahead of them and joined Neville. They’d almost been able to fall into their usual routine.

Harry was looking at him with that gormless expression he got every time Hermione ditched Ron. If he thought Ron was going to talk about it, he was sorely mistaken.

“So — _Apparition!”_ Ron’s mouth had gone dry. “Should be a laugh, eh?”

“I dunno,” said Harry. “Maybe it’s better when you do it yourself, I didn’t enjoy it much when Dumbledore took me along for the ride.”

“I forgot you’d already done it… ”

Hermione was looking cross and terribly pretty as she sat at the end of the dining table. Harry lead them past her, and sat them beside Ginny. Her eyebrows shot up at their approach, and she glanced down the table at Hermione, then back to Ron.

“Leave it,” Ron grunted at her.

Ginny gave a shrug.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she said with what sounded like pity. He’d much rather be mocked. “Saw there’ll be apparition lessons for you lot. Did you sign up?”

“Yeah,” Harry chirped, suddenly looking very happy about the lessons. “We get to take the final test in Hogsmeade, so if anything it’s a change of scenery.”

“As long as you don’t leave any limbs behind, it should be fun,” Ginny replied, looking equally chipper.

Ron didn’t understand why they were suddenly so merry. Harry wouldn’t even get to take the test, since he wouldn’t be seventeen until summer. The two happily chatted about Apparition, and Harry told her about his time with Dumbledore, but Ron didn’t feel like taking part. The more Ron thought on the Apparition lessons, the less he felt like eating. He looked down the table again at Hermione. She caught his eye for a moment, but rolled her eyes at him and gave a dirty glare his way.

“Are you getting enough to eat?” he heard Lavender ask at his side. Well that explained the attitude from Hermione. Harry and Ginny stopped talking and started gathering their things.

“Oi, where are you going?” Ron asked, feeling quite corned by Lavender’s presence.

“To talk with Dean,” said Ginny. Harry pulled a face.

“Er… Me too?” said Harry, with a short glance in Lavender’s direction.

Ron found himself stuck without a reason to oppose their leaving, his food barely touched, and his girlfriend hovering over him. Lavender smiled, and with that his supposed best friend left Ron alone. With his girlfriend.

As January dragged on Ron found it was a lonely business being Lavender’s boyfriend. He spent loads of time with her, of course. He had no choice in the matter. Almost every meal, she was there. He’d come down from the dorms and she’d be waiting beside the fireplace. He’d go to Quidditch practice, and she’d be in the stands. Every time she would make a beeline for Ron, Harry would blanch and run to join someone else. In fact, there seemed to be a good three meter radius around Ron and Lavender no one wanted to cross.

Lavender’s presence kept just about everyone at bay. The last time Ron had been on the outs with Hermione, he’d been able to spend time with Harry. The one time Ron had been on the outs with Harry, he’d been able to spend time with Hermione, Dean and Seamus. This time, it was just him. Alone. With Lavender.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Lavender. She was fine. They just didn’t have much fun together, which made absolutely no sense to him. Lavender laughed so much of the time, and snogging her was absolutely fun, but the moment that stopped they had little to talk about. She wasn’t boring, exactly… They just didn’t care about any of the same things, and he couldn’t sit and people watch with her the way he could with Hermione. Lavender would notice more what they wore or the newest gossip of the castle - but Hermione and he could always make up stupid crap about the strangers they observed together. Now he mostly monologued about stuff. He appreciated that Lavender was an excellent listener, but she rarely had much to say back making for long awkward lapses in their conversation much of the time.

The two were quarantined next to the common room fire as he played himself with chess.  Harry was working on some Herbology homework with Neville on the other side of the room. He truly had to be desperate to get away from them if to be doing homework on a Friday night with Neville. Ron was counting the seconds to when he’d get to go on prefect rounds, and had since before dinner. Hermione could try as she like to avoid him during the day, but she would never neglect her prefect duties - and that included patrolling the corridors with Ron.

“You sure you don’t want to play?” Ron asked Lavender as he set up the chess board to start a new game.

“No, I prefer watching you.”

It was for the best, really. They’d made a go of it a few times,  with him spending a few nights teaching her to play. They’d play somewhat successfully, but her lack of enthusiasm for the game led to her she barely remembering how the pieces moved the next day. Forcing her to relearn something she didn’t care to remember game to game was no way to go about it, so he had mostly given up. Currently, she seemed much more content with sitting halfway on his lap while stroking his hair and staring at him. It was at once off-putting and enthralling.

“Are you excited about Apparition lessons?” she purred in his ear.

Ron’s stomach clenched.

“Not exactly…”

“What’s wrong?”

He began to feel the same dread he did before a Quidditch game.

“It’s nothing,” Ron said, putting his arms behind his head, hoping feigning relaxing would ease the tension working its way through him. “Classes on a Saturday? Who wants that?”

“I suppose… Most everyone else is excited about Apparition lessons.”

“Most people don’t have to worry about the test so much.”

“Why would you have to worry more?”

He stared at the ceiling a bit as she played with his hair.

“It’s stupid.”

“If it’s bothering you, it’s probably not stupid. You’re the smartest boy I know.”

“You must not know many boys then,” he laughed. No one had ever said he was smart, that he could recall, let alone the smartest. “I make lousy grades.”

“And grades are the only way to prove you’re smart, are they?”

“They’ve been a longstanding indicator, yeah.”

“Well, I’ve always wished I were clever,” she said in a wistful manner. “I’d love to be able to argue points and say funny things in the moment. You’re able to do that all the time. And don’t say you have lousy grades. You don’t even try hard and you make good grades. I have to try loads harder than you to get the same marks.”

“Not in divination,” Ron countered.

“You _were_ utterly hopeless,” she giggled. “But, you weren’t exactly trying, were you?”

He ruefully shook his head.

“See! I’m sure you’ll do well in Apparition. You care about it!”

“Yeah, well... I don’t exactly do well under pressure.”

“Why would there be pressure? You can just take the test again. You can take it as many times as you like!”

She looked at him expectantly, ready to listen, truly wanting to know what was bothering him. He felt rotten knowing he didn’t do the same for her. Though it wasn’t as if it were a mystery with Lavender. She wore all her emotions on her sleeve and loved to coo over ‘cute’ things like animals. She’d taken quite the shine to Pig, of course, which spared Ron from trying to carry on a conversation.

“You can tell me,” she said, her expression open and almost pleading. Well, he might as well talk to her about it. No one else was going to listen, were they? It’s not like anyone ever asked him in the first place.

“It’s not just about me, though, is it?” Ron muttered. “My brothers all passed their Apparition Tests the first time around. Well, all except Charlie - but he was second oldest, so he could just beat up anyone who gave him crap about it. At this point, though, the standards have been set for years. Take the test once, and pass it with aces; or get mocked for all of eternity by the twins and  Ginny. But even if I pass it perfectly, it’s not a big deal because they all did it already. It’s the same with everything. They’re always watching and waiting for me to either fail or blow them all away.”

“But your parents would be proud, at least.”

“Oh, they ignore me, mostly,” he said with a shrug, still staring at the ceiling.

“What do you mean?”

“Well…” Ron continued, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. “Look. I’m their sixth boy, so I’m nothing special to them. They were trying for a girl. They just had me by accident along the way to Ginny. Unless I do something truly spectacular, they mostly only notice me if I’ve fucked up. It’s not a big deal.” His ears were red by now, for sure. “Sure you don’t want to play chess?”

“You do something spectacular every year, though!” Lavender doggedly exclaimed. “You’re Keeper for the Quidditch team! Prefect! No one gave you those things. You earned them.”

“Well, I’m busy as a house elf, at least,” Ron said, putting out the bait of a cute animal to distract her. “Have you ever seen one of those before?

“No, I’ve always wanted to though,” Lavender beamed at him. “Are they very cute?”

“Er, I dunno about that. I’ll show you them some time. A bunch of nutters, but funny little things. You’d like them.”

His gambit had seemed to work, but then her eyes narrowed. “Wait, no!  We’re not getting off topic! You really are doing something amazing every year. Every year you and your friends are on adventures of some sort. We never get to hear the whole story of them, but you’ve fought Death Eaters and loads of weird things over the years.” She touched his wrist, where a brain scar peeked out from his jumper sleeve. “Like how you got these.”

“That’s just Harry,” Ron said with a dismissive hand gesture. “Everything I’ve ever done is either a worse version of what my brothers already did, or they are wowed by Harry’s exploits. If they could, they’d just replace me with my famous friend instead, really. It’s not like Mum hasn’t adopted him anyway. I’d do the same thing. Failing Apparition would just be another reason for them to be disappointed and go back to ignoring me, really. It’s not a big deal, though. I’m used to it. So let’s drop it, ok?” His voice came out rougher than he intended.

He let out a sigh, then sat bolt straight as he heard sniffling beside him. Big tears started to form in Lavender’s eyes.

“Oh shit,” Ron let out, looking about him.

“I just wanted to help you,” she said so loudly and with such great force, everyone in the common room could hear. She wiped so hard at her eyes so hard the makeup smeared. People were starting to stare. “And it’s just… It’s so sad to see you th- thinking like that.”

“It’s really not, I’m fine,”  he said, putting on a strained smile. A good portion of the common room was watching them. Harry looked over with a bit of sympathy. Thankfully Hermione wasn’t there.

“Everything is fine!” he said loudly, giving a hardy glare to the onlookers. “I’m fine. I’m great! I told you it was stupid. Just ignore me.”

“NO!” she practically yelled. He said something wrong, because actual tears leaked down her face. He’d broken Lavender Brown.

“Lavender…?”

“I won’t ignore you! You get ignored enough!”

Her hand suddenly grabbed him by the collar of his sweater, and he was forcibly dragged from the common room, stooped the whole way. They were barely beyond the Fat Lady’s portrait when she shoved him up against a wall and bruisingly kissed him.

It was the most confusing moment of his life, he was sure. She hadn’t completely stopped crying as she snogged him either. He could feel his face growing wet with her tears, and his pants growing tighter. The snot must have finally blocked her breathing, because she pulled away and gave a powerful sniffle. Her dark rimmed eyes had a fierceness to them he’d never seen before.

“You’re worth noticing.”

“Er, sure,” Ron said, patting her shoulder.

“Don’t blow me off. I mean it!”

“O-okay! Thanks,” said Ron, willing to say anything if it’d make her stop crying. “You too.”

She took out her wand and the makeup that had pooled down her cheeks, cleared off her face as if it had never been there in the first place.

“Are you going to be okay?” Lavender asked.

“Me? You’re the one who's been crying!”

“But aren’t you upset by it all? Them ignoring you?”

“Naw, I’m fine,” he said, trying to sound light hearted.“Wouldn’t know what to do if I had a bunch of attention anyways.”

“Well, on Valentine's Day you’ll get loads of attention from me, so you’d best get used to it.”

She began kissing him again, and as chuffed as he was that this girl seemed to think he was worth noticing, his heart wasn’t in it.

He had forgotten about Valentine’s Day. He’d never had a reason to celebrate it, except that the day after meant discount chocolate. Last year the Hogsmeade trip had fallen on Valentine’s day. He had hoped to spend it with Hermione. He’d fantasized about turning a platonic trip into something much more romantic.

He made silly plans to do something chivalrous - like give her his coat, if she was too cold while they looked at the Shrieking Shack, or just use the cold as an excuse to hold her closely, and then look into each other's eyes and, in a fit of passion, kiss each other. Sadly, there was no chance for him to make any sort of move at all, for both of them had been too busy for a trip to the village together. He’d been stuck at a very damp and disappointing Quidditch practice, while she was arranging a Quibbler interview between Harry and Rita Skeeter.

Hermione doted on Harry just about as much as Lavender had been doting on Ron this afternoon, and he couldn’t help but be a bit jealous of them, separately. Granted, with Harry’s track record for being in trouble he needed someone like Hermione worrying over him. Ron worried just as much as Hermione about Harry - but you didn’t catch him telling Harry how fanciable he was, or spending Valentine’s day with him.

Ron had almost made headway this year with Hermione on the romantic front. He would plan out ways to test the waters with her, and every time he would have to retreat before he could employ a proper gambit. It would take days for him to work up the nerve, but once he was about to do something like brush her hair behind her ear, or hold her hand, or tell her how pretty she looked - Harry would interrupt them. He would sit down between them tell them about Dumbledore meetings, or start ranting about Draco, or start Hermione ranting about his stupid Potions book. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Harry’s interruptions were purposeful. Knowing Ron’s luck, they were.

Afterall, Harry hadn’t said he fancied anyone since Cho. Perhaps he’d finally caught on to how amazing Hermione was. The two of them were always off at Slug Club gatherings together, and she couldn’t stop herself from lauding Harry left and right. Perhaps it was inevitable. Everyone already thought Harry and Hermione had been an item, so it wasn’t much of a stretch for ‘The Chosen One’ to finally notice ‘The Brightest Witch of her age.’  

Harry could be the biggest cockblock in the world when it came to Hermione, but he never seemed to do that with Lavender. No, Harry gave them all too much space to snog and get up to things that further entrenched Lavender’s interest in Ron. Lavender was so invested in him that she was bloody crying over him in the Common Room. It was nuts.

Maybe if he blew off Valentine’s Day? No. There was no way he could do that to her. Maybe if he made the holiday disappointing, he could make her like him less? He still didn’t understand why she liked him at all, truth be told. He did little to encourage her, and had been able to avoid having any more sexual rendezvous since early January. It was not for lack of her trying. She kept cornering him, and Ron kept having to make up wilder and wilder excuses to avoid being alone with her— there was only so much a teenage boy could do to resist having sex with his girlfriend, after all.  

The impending Valentine’s Day was going to be the worst test by far. He couldn’t think of a valid excuse to avoid Lavender without coming off as a complete arsehole.

Their snogging ended as a tempus alarm went off in Ron’s pocket. Ron extracted himself from Lavender’s grasp.

“Where are you going?”

“Got a prefect round,” he said, feeling prestigiously guilty as her face fell.

“That’s going to be with Hermione isn’t it.”

“Well she’s the other prefect…”

“Fine then,” Lavender bit out.

Ron couldn’t think of anything to say, so nodded before turning to go down the hallway.

“You know…” Lavender said behind him. “She doesn’t show you the attention you deserve either.”

He turned around, but Lavender was already gone. He had been looking forward to his prefect round, but it felt tainted now. He couldn’t very well skip it and anger Hermione further, but he almost felt like he was cheating on Lavender to go.

He let out a hiss of air as he turned the corner to the Great Hall. Hermione wasn’t there yet. That was very unlike her. She was normally fifteen minutes early to everything. He leaned against the doorway and tried to casually arrange himself to look a bit more cool. He had his hands in his pockets and counted the minutes until ten. The halls were still, except for the occasional student rushing to beat curfew. Two minutes til, Padma Patil walked down the hall. Instead of rushing past, she came right up to him.

“Hi Ron.”

“Padma,” he said with a nod.

“She’s not coming,” said Padma, annoyingly blocking his view.

“Huh?” he said, distractedly, looking around her for signs of Hermione.

“Hermione. She isn’t coming. She asked me to switch patrols with her.”

“She switched?” Ron asked, not from confusion, but more from denial. Surely she didn’t hate him enough to track down Padma and convince her to switch their schedules.

“Yes,” she said without further explanation.

Well, that put paint to it. Hermione was just about as done with him as she could possibly be. The girl he’d been pining over for, he wasn’t even sure how long, hated him. It left him breathless, and oddly thinking of a moment from when he’d been five years old.

The twins would climb the tree and tie a ribbon or string on the branch to show how high they’d made it. The twins had thrust a string into his hand and dared him to climb to one of their lower ribbons, calling him a baby, an insult of the highest order for a five year old.The twins lost interest after a while, but Ginny stayed by his side holding his hand.

He stood at that tree staring at it, his cheeks growing hot, from the sun or the tears that were pooling in his eyes, he didn’t know. He finally willed himself to do it, Ginny watching and gasping as he determinedly worked his way up the tall black alder tree, his untied shoes making him slip a few times. He was only five and hadn’t quite managed the tie his laces so that they’d stay in bows for more than a few minutes. He got to the first branch, then the next. He passed branch after branch and right as he got near the top, he felt a surge of pride and satisfaction, knowing he’d finally done something they couldn’t tease him for. They had never gotten that high before, and he knew he’d be able to beat them this time. It would be his moment. He took the string and began to tie it. He wasn’t good at bows, and he was fumbling to get the rabbit ear around the loop when the branch he stood on broke. The branches whipped at his cheeks as he fell, and as he hit the ground every bit of air forced out of his lungs. Then the string he’d tried to tie caught on the breeze and blew away, as if he’d never been there at all. He’d gotten the air knocked out of him, and dislocated his elbow- and the twins said it didn’t count unless he tied the ribbon. Ron was determined to climb it again, but it was too late. His mum put a ward around the tree, and there was no way he’d ever get to his goal.

“Right,” Ron muttered to Padma, pushing himself from the corridor wall.  “Well, let’s get this out of the way.”

Normally he had to consciously slow down his long-legged gait for others, but as they patrolled the halls, he dragged at a sluggish pace.

They went a few floors, and had to give warnings to a pair of fourth years snogging in a cupboard. Neither he nor Padma wanted to get anyone into trouble if they could help it. As they walked Ron felt a question niggling at him.

“So… How did Hermione ask you to switch prefect rounds?”

“She caught me at the end of Runes. Offered to share her notes and participate in a few study sessions. Pretty good trade,” she replied with a shrug.

Ron thought it sounded like a horrible trade. He and Padma hadn’t talked much since their ill-fated date at the Yule Ball. Study sessions, even with someone as brilliant as Hermione, would hardly make up for the awkward hour and a half Padma would have to endure with Ron.

“Plus,” said Padma, looking amused, “it’s not my first time being stuck with you when you’d rather be with Hermione, so I’m a bit of a pro.”

Ron spluttered while Padma laughed at him. Perfect. This was just perfect.

“You should be happy she chose me of all people.”

“How’s that?” he grunted.

“Well, obviously she chose me because she knew I’d be the most annoying choice for you.”

“Why would that cheer me up?”

“If she wants to annoy you, that means she’s thinking of you,” Padma said, patting him on the arm in a conciliatory gesture.

“Well… I’d- I’d much rather she just show up to her responsibilities…”

Padma made a ‘hmmm’ sound of feigned interest at his comment. Ravenclaws! What an annoying lot they were. The only one worth anything was Luna, by his reckoning.

By the end of their round, he was somewhat buoyed by Padma’s commentary, but in the following weeks the reality of Hermione ‘thinking of him’ was quite unpleasant. She still was going out of her way to be uncharacteristically petty with him around the castle.

In Transfiguration he conjured a chair that more resembles a deflated hippopotamus, and she let out a cruel laugh before loudly muttering “pathetic.”  He tried his best to reframe his thinking. Her cruel comments were a sign she still liked him. He had to take it in stride.

A few days later he was being kissed by Lavender in front of the fat lady when they heard a throat cleared behind them. Hermione glared at them then nearly slammed the portrait into them as she entered the common room. Her glares were a sign of attention. She truly did care about him.

Each time he’d bite the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t retort. If he could keep his temper, maybe he’d have a shot with her some day, even if it was just friendship, as much as he knew it was silly to hope for it.

She made it especially hard to keep his temper after their first Apparition lesson. It had been a rather hopeless lesson, including Susan Bones temporarily splinching her leg off, but Ron was trying to feel less despondent about it as he described his attempt to Harry.

“How did you do? I think I felt something the last time I tried — a kind of tingling in my feet.”

“I expect your trainers are too small, Won-Won,” Hermione scoffed before giving a Malfoy-worthy smirk and walking past them. Her snipes continued to rain down the rest of the week. At that point it would be better to be ignored entirely. He didn’t think he ego could take much more of her snipes. There was only so much reframing a person could do when faced with daily derision.

Little time could be spent worrying about Hermione, though, for Valentine’s Day was approaching, and Lavender was dropping not so subtle hints about it just about every day.

“It’s a real shame we don’t have a Hogsmeade trip this weekend. We can’t go to Madam Puddifoot’s! That is supposed to be the most romantic place in all of Hogsmeade,” she bemoaned. He didn’t have more than a few knuts, so he was rather relieved he didn’t have to take her into the village. But with no money, there was no buying her a gift either. Girls wanted gifts that cost galleons, not knuts. Luckily he had something of a plan for what they could do. His felt bitterness grow in his chest as the romantic holiday approached. He was planning this for a girlfriend he didn’t fancy, while the one he did wouldn’t even look at him.

February fourteenth arrived, and with it, droves of girls giggling, creepy fat little cupids, and a gratuitous amount of heart decorations down the halls.

“Isn’t that adorable!” Lavender exclaimed, pointing out a horrendous display of a Ravenclaw girl being weighed down by about ten giant bouquets of flowers. The Ravenclaw looked chagrined as the Hufflepuff boy gave her two more bouquets.

“Er… Sure,” Ron croaked, trying to hide his disgust.

Lavender looked about at the gift giving around them with barely contained eagerness. She looked to Ron and commented loudly about how sweet the couples all were giving their gifts. She clearly expected something to be given to her in front of everyone. Ron gave her a kiss instead, which she found rather disappointing. Lavender’s bottom lip began to wibble, so Ron knew he had to act quickly.

“Sorry I didn’t think to give you a gift in front of everyone. I planned on doing our thing after class.”

“You did?” asked Lavender, still looking miserable.

“Of course!” Ron said with forced enthusiasm. “I should have told you before - but wanted it to be a surprise. Yeah, thirty minutes after Transfiguration meet me in the downstairs corridor with the fruit bowl paintings. I have a couple of surprises in store.”

“Oh! Oh Ron I’m so excited!” Lavender exclaimed clapping her hands together, eyes bright. “Should I wear something special?”

“Er… I’m sure whatever you wanna wear will be fine.”

“Well surely not Hogwarts robes!”

“Sounds good,” Ron said, mentally reminding himself to change his clothes to something nicer than the tatty jeans he was wearing.

Lavender gave a squeal, hugged him, then went to gab with Parvati. He could hear her proclaim “He has a SURPRISE for me!” loud enough for most of the student population to hear. Parvati gave her an indulgent smile. Ron realized just then that, in some ways Valentine’s was more a way of showing everyone _besides_ the person you were dating how much you liked them. Ron suffered through her sly looks all through class, quickly changed into his most presentable jeans and sweater, then hoofed it to the corridor to meet Lavender. He was waiting a good while longer than anticipated, but finally Lavender arrived, looking nicely put together. She was wearing his quidditch jersey he’d wrapped her christmas gift in, her lips looking oddly shiny, and her hair seemed to bounce more with each step than usual.

“So, I know you were wanting to do Madam Puddifoot’s today,” Ron said, feeling rather proud of his remembering this. “I think I might have found a way to make that happen.”

“We’re not going to sneak out of the castle, are we? I didn’t bring my cloak or anything!”

“No, no. We’ll manage it right here in the castle. But first, we need some food. Luckily, I know how to get into the kitchens.”

‘You do?!’ she said, looking awe struck as if he’d done something impressive.

He reached toward the painting behind her and tickled the pear in the fruit bowl. The pear gave a giggle and turned into handle for them.

“You said you’d never seen a house elf the other day, so I thought you might want to today,” Ron said as he lead her through to the kitchen. Lavender happily nodded at him, but whatever joy she felt at the prospect of seeing elves quickly dissipated once she was met with the reality of them. She let out a small shriek at the sight of them.

“ _Those_ are… house elves?” she said, looking mildly disgusted at the homely little creatures. Perhaps he should have gotten the food without her.

There was a clatter of pots, when a tiny blur came barreling towards them. Lavender lurched behind Ron, and he nearly lost his balance as his legs were tightly pulled together by a tight embrace.

“It’s Harry’s Potter’s Wheezy!” chirped a beaming Dobby, and he nuzzled into Ron’s knee, the many hats placed upon his head trembling almost as much as his bat-like ears. “How can Dobby help you? You have always been a good and kind wizard.  I still have the socks you gave me!’

The elf pulled up his long shirt, that more resembled a dress than a tea cozy, to reveal Ron’s woolen socks hidden in the layers of socks.

“They look real spiffy, Dobby” Ron said laughing a bit.

Dobby gave a tremulous smile.

“Dobby still has the new jumper you gave, too!”

“I’m glad. How’s Winky doing?”

“Winky still be drinking, sir” he said quietly, his ears falling down against his head, before perking up again. “I’ll go get her, sir!”

“Oh no, you don’t have to—” Ron lamely began, but the elf ran away before he had a chance to put in a firm protestation. Lavender gave a small laugh and seemed to be relaxing a bit.

“That little elf sure likes you,” she said with a smile, walking down one of the long tables to observe the elves at work.

“He’s a good elf,” Ron said fondly, before Dobby returned, Winky in tow. She looked as thoroughly miserable as ever, with tears in her eyes as she tipsily swayed to and fro.

“It’s Potter’s Wheezy, Winky. The good kind wizard who gave me his Christmas gifts,” Dobby said, holding the smaller tomato-nosed house elf steady. Winky looked at them dazedly, giving no sign she remembered Ron at all.

“And this is his friend…”

“Lavender Brown,” Lavender said with a small curtsy. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

Dobby’s ears began to tremble at the respect she’d given him.

“And this is his Lav-Lav!” Dobby recited to Winky.

Lavender looks amused at that, while Ron registered slight horror. Winky gave a loud sniff before falling on her rump.

“Oh no, are you alright?” Lavender asked Winky, her head nearly colliding with Ron’s as they leaned over to help the drunk elf up. The elf’s eyes filled with tears and she began bawling.

“Is she ok?” Lavender whispered.

“She’s just drunk,” Ron said with a rueful shake of his head. The other elves descended upon them and shuffled the weeping house elf out of the room, looking embarrassed at such a display being witnessed.

“Dobby is sorry, Mr Wheezy, Miss Lav-Lav,” Dobby said, before suddenly banging his little elf head on the stool a few times to punish himself, his many hats toppling to the ground. Ron stopped him the third time, forcibly picking up Dobby who feebly jerked to punch himself in the face.

“Dobby, don’t!” Ron bleated, as he stilled the elf’s hands.

“Winky likes her butterbeer too much sometimes,” the elf wheezed, calming himself enough to put his hats back atop his head.

“It’s fine, Dobby. You can’t help it.”

“Can I get you foods, sir?”

“Actually, that would be great!” Ron said, hoping this would curtail the elf from any more self punishing violence. “Do you have anything that would be like the fare you get at a tea shop? For takeaway, if possible?”

“Oh yes, sir! The elves are the very best at tea time! It be a shame Hogwarts doesn’t serve afternoon tea. We loves to make it!” Dobby said before scuttling to get them food.

They were shuffled to a few chairs, and as soon as the tea was brewed, they were given a heavily laden basket with a large pink bow tied around the handle.

“I hope you be enjoying it, sir!” said the elf, about to get back to work.

“Wait, Dobby, I have something for you,” said Ron, rutting about in his book bag. He pulled out a few pairs of the most garish socks he owned, and gave them to Dobby, whose large green eyes began to fill with tears. “Payment for your hard work.”

“Oh!” Dobby let out before rubbing the manky socks against his face. His face split into a large grin, as he wiped away the tears. “You is the first person to pay Dobby besides the Head Master. You is too kind to Dobby, sir. Too kind!”

“Rubbish, you earned it,” said Ron, ears reddening. “Thanks, Dobby.”

“You are most welcome, sir!” Dobby said with a deep bow. “Bye bye, Mr Wheezy. Goodbye Miss Lav Lav!”

With that they left the elves behind, Ron carrying the basket and leading them to their second and final stop.

“You know, I didn’t like them at first, but in their own ways, elves are very cute,” Lavender smiled, sliding an arm into his elbow.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Ron conceded.

“One thing I didn’t understand, though… Why did he start punching himself?”

“He was ‘punishing himself.’ It’s a thing elves do when they feel they’ve done something wrong or displeased a wizard or witch.”

“What?!” Lavender exclaimed, looking utterly horrified.

“I know… Y’know, I always thought I wanted a house elf growing up. Dobby used to be the Malfoys’ elf, before Harry freed him. Can you imagine someone as sick as Draco able to make Dobby do whatever he wants?”

Lavender shook her head. “I’m starting to understand why Hermione is always going on about them.”

“She can be a bit off in how she wants to help them, but there aren’t many people who care about ‘em like her,” Ron said fondly, thinking to Hermione and her stupid wooly bladders she had knit with such fervor for a year. She really was the best.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there grinning, when Lavender’s eyes turned cold and she ripped her arm from his.

“Well I guess it’s good that cold fish can actually show affection for something,” Lavender bit out. Despite their ongoing tiff, Ron couldn’t let the comment against Hermione roll off his back, and churlish anger blossomed in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was more mad at Lavender for insulting Hermione, or more mad at Hermione for haunting him no matter what the circumstances. They were quiet all the way to the hallway near the Room of Requirement, but by that time he had calmed down enough to make a go of things again.

“D.A. lessons?” Lavender asked, looking disappointed.

“The room can actually turn into any room you like. I’ve never been in Madam Puddifoot’s before,” Ron explained, “so it might be better for you to do it. Pace in front of the tapestry three times, thinking of what you want the room to be like, and it’ll do it.”

“Really?” Lavender asked, awestruck. Ron nodded. She did as he instructed, and a door knob appeared before them. Without preamble Lavender wrenched open the door and let out a large gasp. “It’s just like the one in Hogsmeade!”

Ron wouldn’t know, but he was awfully glad to be in the fake Puddifoot’s, as the small tables were placed too closely together, and it was overly hot. If the steamy coffee shop had been filled with other couples it would have been even more uncomfortable. It was covered in bows, lace and florals, reminding him of his Aunt Muriel’s parlor. It even smelled similarly of old people.

“It’s adorable! This was so thoughtful of you!” she squealed, darting about the shop.

Fat little cupids were tossing pink confetti, one of them hovering low enough it continuously flew into the back of Ron’s head. Lavender laughed and brushed some of the confetti off Ron’s shoulder before pulling him in for a voracious kiss.

“Let’s have our tea,” she said, clapping her hands together. Ron dazedly followed. Dobby had outdone himself with all sorts of fruity tarts, fondant fancies, biscuits and a perfectly tempered tea. The horrible room was practically worth it for such a great spread— the pink confetti that kept hitting him in the face made it hard to be in the moment, though.

“This was perfect, Ron,” Lavender said with a sigh. “I’ve never had a boyfriend on Valentine’s Day. I guess that makes you my first Valentine. I’m your first too, right?”

Ron nodded.

“I’m glad. It’s fitting, really… I guess our relationship is full of firsts,” she said, coquettishly staring at him, her ankle stroking against his.

He tugged at the collar of his jumper. “I suppose so,” Ron said with a tight smile.

“I hadn’t ever had a serious crush on a boy until you, really,” Lavender went on. “But then last year you were so brave at the Ministry—”

“I wasn’t,” Ron protested, remembering that night. He’d never felt more afraid as his friends and sister were surrounded by Death Eaters. The room was feeling stuffier by the second.

“You were! Everyone says so. You all were, I suppose, but you were the only one to spend so much time in the Hospital Wing afterward.”

“Hermione was there as long as me,” he noted. Why was it so hot in here?

“Well, you were the only one with scars afterwards,” she said patting his arm. He quickly retracted it from her. Ron began tracing one of the scars on his wrist. He’d wanted Hermione to notice them earlier that year, but somehow felt exposed having someone who wasn’t there talking about that night. He’d almost died. Hermione had almost died. All of them had almost died. Sirius had. “Anyway, you were always rather brave, but you’ve gotten so tall and handsome, so I couldn’t help but take notice.”

The rooms had been so dark that night, eerily blue and black and the air damp and cool, making the strange sights they saw even brighter in contrast. The planetary room had been the strangest - he’d almost ushered Luna and Ginny out of the room safely before he got hit by that weird curse that had made him an utter buffoon. He could still remember the strange sensation of the brain’s tentacles wrapping themselves around him like burning ropes. The pain cleaved through the garbled mess his brain had become. It had felt like his own brain was being ripped out through his arms.

Lavender began to look at him an annoyed way.

“You’re being awfully quiet.”

“Huh?” he said rubbing at his forearm.

“Well I told you when I started falling for you,” Lavender said, “I was thinking, since it’s Valentine’s days, you could tell me when you started to know you were falling for me?”

Ron’s thoughts were still trying to come to the present - but even if his thoughts had been completely Ministry free, he had no idea how to answer her question. The truth was he couldn’t tell her how he had fallen for her. He never had. He couldn’t very well tell her that, especially on Valentine’s Day.

“Well… You’re pretty and nice,” Ron said succinctly, hoping she’d drop the subject.

“You really think I’m pretty?” she sweetly smiled.

“Well yeah. I wouldn’t date you if I didn’t.”

Her smile fell. He’d said something wrong, he guessed, but he couldn’t think what.

“So if I wasn’t pretty you wouldn’t date me?”

There was something dangerous in her tone, and Ron had a feeling something awful was about to happen, and his collar began to feel tight. “What?”

“I’m not interesting enough for you to date if I didn’t look like this?”

“I didn’t say that—”

“You didn’t have to, Ron…” said Lavender, dramatically rising from the table. “It just really hurts that you think I’m this, this— this stupid horror of a human being.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Ron feebly protested, “and I definitely don’t think you’re a ‘whore of a human being.’”

“Did you just call me a whore!?”

“That’s what you said!”

Lavender’s eyes narrowed. He’d never found a woman more imposing than in this moment; Hermione, McGonagall, his mother and Bellatrix Lestrange all included.

“I said HOR-ROR! Is this because I slept with you?” she shrieked. “Now you think I’m a slag?”

“What? No!”

“Just because I slept with you doesn’t mean you can call names and treat me like this!”

“Now, hang on!” Ron yelled back. He’d been a good boyfriend. He’d done thoughtful things for her. He’d gotten her the date she wanted. “Lavender, what the hell is going on? I was just trying to tell you I think you are pretty and nice. I don’t understand why you’re mad.”

“Oh I’m crazy now!”

“A little bit, yeah!” Ron spit out. “I meant mad as in angry, not mad as in crazy!”

“You know what, I don’t have to put up with this! You are calling me nothing but a pretty face, a slag and crazy! And that hurts Ron,” Lavender said, her eyes now filling with tears. “Why are you being so mean? I care about you so much and for you to do this on VALENTINE’S day—”

She dramatically turned away from him as her tears made her shoulders shake, and a cupid threw a handful of confetti up his nose. He snorted and sputtered, trying to rid himself of confetti and think of some way to salvage things.

“Lav, please don’t cry…” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry… I am really bad at words and really good at upsetting girls. Hermione can attest—”

“DON’T YOU BRING HER UP!” she practically howled.

“Sorry!” he said, ducking his head.

“I may not be brilliant like her,” she let out between wet sobs, “but I am more than just a pretty face!”

“I know you are. That’s why I’m dating you.”

She continued crying and wiping at her dark mascara-stained tears, seemingly wanting him to say more.

“I like you because you’re brave and nice,” Ron said, carefully. It was like approaching a Hippogriff for the first time. His head was spinning from every single barmy thing happening.

“How am I nice? I’ve just been yelling at you on Valentine’s Day!” she said with a great sniff.

“Oh I probably deserve to be yelled at for something, right?” he grinned, and remarkably she let out a small watery laugh.

“I d-don’t see how you can like me at all, really...” she was fishing, and they both knew it, but Ron was quick to supply her with with a bolster anyway.

“Are you kidding? I’m the one who shouldn’t be liked. I still can’t believe you snog me. Like, I’m a skinny, freckled, no arsed arsehole who never does anything right. Tons of people like you. They’re sitting there thinking ‘how the hell did that sod land her.?’’

“That’s not true,” she lied, “Lots of people like you!”

He shook his head at that. He knew he wasn’t very well liked in the castle - and that was mostly ok with him.

“And you did do a lot of things right today. This was actually a rather brilliant date,” she said, using her wand to clear away all her tears and make her face normal again. Girls were strange.

He felt this even more keenly as she began to kiss him again. It was a brilliant snog, but then her hands started to work their way to his jeans. Inexplicably he thought of Hermione, and how he still hasn’t ‘fallen’ for Lavender, despite trying for months.

‘Hey,” he said, gently putting his hands around her wrists. “I’m a bit knackered for any... well any of that right now.”

She looked at him confused.

“Crying girls sort of take it out of me,” he said with a small laugh, hoping to get her to laugh with him.

“I ruined everything—” she gulped with a look that threatened another cry.

“No!” he yelped. “I mean… I didn’t expect us to do any of... that? Today? I just thought, you know, chocolate, a bit of a snog, heart shaped confetti up my nose. Shit like that.”

She finally laughed, and Ron could feel the tension drain from his shoulders.

“We can get more confetti, if you like.”

“Naw, I probably will be snorting that stuff out for the next week. Uh… Want to split the last fondant fancy with me?”

“Sure,” she said with a smile.

This was how he liked Lavender the most. It wasn’t when they were snogging, or even when she was propping him up with kind words. He liked her most when they laughed like this. Like this, it was actually nice.  Just talking about chocolate frogs, and her telling him about her rabbit and stuff. It reminded him of how it was between him and Hermione most of the time. Just being able to BE. Merlin, he longed to be able to talk to Hermione like this again.

After he and Lavender split the final fondant fancy, they placed the rest of the sweets back in the Dobby’s picnic basket and headed to the Gryffindor common room, as both were rather exhausted from Lavender’s crying. She took the pink ribbon off the basket and tied it around her wrist.

“I’m not going to take it off. I want a reminder of our first Valentine’s day,” she said, a wide smile on her face as she put her head on his upper arm. She wasn’t tall enough to put it on his shoulder, but then again, most women weren’t. They parted ways when they reached the common room, Lavender giving him a deep kiss, and each went to their respective dormitories.

Ron collapsed onto his bed with a sigh, basket still in hand. That had been the most exhausting day of his life.

Harry came in not long after, looking put out.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked from his bed, not bothering to sit up he was so exhausted.

“Malfoy just now disappeared off the map!” Harry ground out, sitting on Ron’s bed and throwing the Marauder’s Map at him. “I just don’t know where he is going, but he’s planning something!”

“Maybe he was off celebrating Valentine’s day with Crabbe and Goyle,” Ron said, looking boredly at the map.

Harry shuddered.

“That’s a disturbing thought.”

Ron opened his basket for a treat, and silently offered Harry some, hoping they would distract his friend enough to change the topic.

“How was your date or whatever with Lavender?”

“Speaking of disturbing thoughts,” Ron grunted.

“That bad?”

“I think she registered it as a good time, somehow. We did Madam Puddifoot’s in the Room of Requirement.”

“You didn’t!” Harry incredulously let out. “After everything I told you about it?”

“Yep,” Ron said putting a pillow over his face. “What is it with Puddifoot’s and girls crying?”

“She cried on you? How’d you manage that?”

“Called her pretty?” Harry raised an eyebrow at that. “Don’t make me relive it.”

“That’s fine. I don’t want to know,” Harry replied. He was quiet for a moment before he rummaged in the basket for another biscuit. “I saw Dean and Ginny when I was out.”

“My sister’s love life is something I definitely don’t want to know about,” Ron said with finality.

“You think they’re going to keep going out much longer?” Harry doggedly asked.

“I try to think about them as little as possible.”

“Right… Yeah… Me too…” Harry said quietly, before seemingly making up his mind about something. “Want to play exploding snap?”

“As long as we don’t talk about couples or Valentine’s Day ever again, I’m game.”

The rest of Valentine’s Day was spent playing card games and singeing off Harry’s eyebrows, which was a much better way to spend an evening than anything he and Lavender would have gotten up to.

The rest of the month he managed to keep Lavender from crying again, which he thought was rather a large accomplishment, given how prone to tears she’d been around him. He’d even managed to slip out of her company a bit more often and spend more of his spare time with Harry. Hermione was still avoiding him and glaring at him, and the faculty had unfortunately cancelled the upcoming Hogsmeade trip — but nothing could bring down Ron’s spirit’s too much because his birthday was coming, and he’d finally be seventeen.

“Happy birthday, Ron,” said Harry, when they were woken on the first of March by Seamus and Dean leaving noisily for breakfast. “Have a present.”

He threw the package across onto Ron’s bed, where it joined a small pile of them.

“Cheers,” Ron drowsily smiled as he ripped off the paper from Harry’s gift. He opened it to see a new pair of Quidditch Keeper gloves, the soft distinct smell of Quidditch quality leather waking him up as surely as a cup of strong coffee. “Nice one, Harry!”

It was a really good haul this year. His parents had given him  a heavy gold watch with symbols around the edge and tiny moving stars instead of hands. And it was new! They’d only given him a handful of new things in his whole life, which somehow made the gift a bit more special. This was turning out to be a brilliant day.

Some of his gifts had fallen to the ground, and he quickly went to retrieve them. Finding some chocolate cauldrons among them. He happily ate one and offered some to Harry, but his friend was too distracted by trying to find Draco on the map. Ron checked his new watch. They’d have to get a move on if they didn’t want to do Apparition lessons without food. Harry was always forgetting to eat when he was on a tear about something.

Ron finished getting dressed, and couldn’t help the sigh that came out of him. He felt like he was missing something. Or someone? Someone with dark long hair? Romilda Vane? The thought flittered out of his mind, like a snitch that disappeared.

“Come on, if you don’t hurry up, you’ll have to Apparate on an empty stomach,” Ron told Harry. He ate a couple more cauldrons, since he didn’t know when he’d eat next. Then again, who really needed food on a day where Romilda Vane was about the castle? She was just so beautiful. He’d seen her glossy hair a few months back. Did it smell nice? Did her laugh sound like a tinkling sound, or was it broad and long? He would love to make her laugh. But how could he do that? She barely knew him at all.

He leaned against his bedpost, and forlornly stared out of the window, the rain reflecting his dark mood. Romilda was so perfect and beautiful, and everything he ever needed, but here he was, all the way in his dorm without her by his side.

“Ron? Breakfast,” he heard Harry say from behind him.

“I’m not hungry.”

“I thought you just said — ?”

“Well, all right, I’ll come down with you,” sighed Ron, wishing the dorm walls would fall in on him to end his misery. “But I don’t want to eat.”

“You’ve just eaten half a box of Chocolate Cauldrons, haven’t you?” Harry said, intruding on Ron’s thoughts again. Romilda was out there somewhere in the castle, and he wasn’t with her, worshipping her, making her eyes light up, making her know with every fibre of his being how much he was in love with her every movement.

“It’s not that,” Ron said with another sigh. “You ... you wouldn’t understand.”

“Fair enough,” said Harry, turning to open the door.

If only there was a way to make Romilda realize the deep feelings he had for her. The passion that he felt deep in his soul for. The way he’d do anything for her. He felt for her so badly it hurt. His soul positively ached!

“Harry!” Ron let out.

“What?”

“Harry, I can’t stand it!”

“You can’t stand what?”

“I can’t stop thinking about her!” said Ron, his throat rasping from the emotion within him.

“Why does that stop you having breakfast?” his dense unfeeling friend asked.

“I don’t think she knows I exist,” said Ron with a desperate gesture. He had to be near her. He needed her to know how he would follow her to the ends of the earth if he had to. He’d face down anything for her, even acromantulas

“She definitely knows you exist. She keeps snogging you, doesn’t she?”

Ron blinked. He had never had the pleasure, nay, the absolute DREAM of snogging someone as perfect as Romilda. How could Harry think he’d done that? The world would know when Ron Weasley had snogged the most beautiful woman who had ever lived on this planet. He would write poems of it.

“Who are you talking about?” asked Ron.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Romilda Vane.” Ron smiled, as he said his beloved’s name out loud. The sound of her name as beautiful as a song. Surely Harry had to see how beautiful that name was.

They stared at each other for almost a whole minute, before Harry said, “This is a joke, right? You’re joking.”

“I think ... Harry, I think I love her,” Ron almost cried. He felt tears coming to his eyes as the deep love took over his whole soul.

“Okay,” said Harry, walking up to Ron and looking him in the face, “okay... Say that again with a straight face.”

“I love her,” Ron repeated, like a prayer. Like a song. “Have you seen her hair, it’s all black and shiny and silky ... and her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her —”

“This is really funny and everything, but joke’s over, all right? Drop it.”

Ron had never felt such fury in his life. How dare Harry impugn the honor or his beautiful Romilda. How could he think his pure love to be anything close to a joke. It was the most important thing in the world, his love for her. In moments Ron’s fist was drawn and he hit his once best friend on the ear.

Harry turned his wand on Ron, who was in the air, hanging by one ankle in seconds.

“What was that for?” Harry bellowed at him.

“You insulted her, Harry! You said it was a joke!” Ron yelled back. He needed to get out of this spell. He needed to be with Romilda!

“Where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?”

“They were a birthday present!” Ron impatiently answered. He tried as he could to get down so he could find his sweet beautiful Romilda. Harry was saying something about the cauldrons, but it was of no consequence until he heard Harry say the most beautiful word in the English language.

“Romilda?” he repeated, feeling the most joyous feeling in the world begin the take place in his heart. “Did you say Romilda? Harry — do you know her? Can you introduce me?”

“Yeah, I’ll introduce you,” said Harry, finally being useful. “I’m going to let you down now, okay?”

Ron crashed to the ground, but what did he care for pain when Romilda was in the world? Could the smile ever leave his face? Harry said something about potions class, and Ron could not wait to get there to see his beautiful Romilda. Maybe he’d get to actually meet her and finally have her melodious voice roll over him like waves on a beach. He followed Harry to the portrait hole.

“You’re late, Won-Won!” some girl said.“I’ve got you a birthday —”

“Leave me alone,” said Ron, pushing past her. “Harry’s going to introduce me to Romilda Vane.”

Ron almost felt as if he’d floated all the way to Slughorn’s office, he was so full of love. He’d never felt more alive, or more whole, than he did in this one moment. Romildaaa. Would she take his last name? They could just add an extra V to anything she had initialled and it would be a R.W. Then their initials would match. If this wasn’t a sign from Merlin himself that they were meant to be, he didn’t know what would be.

Harry and Slughorn were blocking his view into the room, though.

“I can’t see her, Harry — is he hiding her?”

They finally let him through, and to his mortification he tripped over a tasseled footstool. He regained his balance by seizing Harry around the neck, and asked “She didn’t see that, did she?”

“She’s not here yet.”

“That’s good,” said Ron. He couldn’t stand it if he embarrassed himself in front of his own personal perfect goddess.  “How do I look?”

“Very handsome,” said Slughorn, handing Ron a glass of clear liquid. “Now drink that up, it’s a tonic for the nerves, keep you calm when she arrives, you know.”

“Brilliant,” Ron replied, knowing that he’d need it if he was to be able to fully express the love he felt all the way down to his toes. He loved her so much. Romilda… Her smile… and she was a goddess… Who he didn’t really know… and she was so perfectly… Her hair was… He didn’t… What?

Oh. Holy. Fuck.

What had he just been on? Had he really just been obsessing about that weird big chinned girl that was obsessed with Harry?

And he’d blown off Lavender. And he’d hit Harry?

Oh. BLOODY. FUCK!

“Back to normal, then?” Harry grinned at him, as Slughorn chortled in the background. Ron felt nothing but absolute horror. He felt his knees give way as he collapsed into one of the pouffy armchairs next to Slughorn’s fire. This had to be the most embarrassing thing he’d ever been through in his life. He felt like he’d been violated on some deep level. He felt filthy.

“Pick-me-up, that’s what he needs,” Slughorn said, waddling over to a drink laden table. “I’ve got butterbeer, I’ve got wine, I’ve got one last bottle of this oak-matured mead...”

Did he have anything Ron could poison himself with so he wouldn’t have to live through the embarrassment of people knowing he was love-potioned?

Slughorn’s sausage-like fingers stopped on the mead.

“Hmm ... meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas ... ah, well ...He can’t miss what he’s never had! Why don’t we open it now and celebrate Mr. Weasley’s birthday? Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love. ...”

Harry and the walrus-looking professor were laughing at him as the mead was handed out to them all.

Hopefully a stiff drink would be able to wash away a bit of the utter embarrassment he was feeling. He’d a taste of mead once when his dad had given him a sip, and it hadn’t been half bad. Ron didn’t care to wait for a toast from his professor, and threw back the glass, drinking the mead in one go.

But the expected comforting warmth of alcohol down his gullet didn’t come. The liquid ripped through his esophagus, and the acrid taste of bile and blood flooded his senses. His lungs gasped in vain for air, but the liquid tore through his lungs like a knife sawing through tissue paper. Agonizing pain viciously scorched and engulfed his insides.

He was burning up from the inside, and couldn’t breath. Unbelievable tension shook its way through his limbs, freezing them in place. Horrible weakness was shrivelling him up into nothingness.

His glass slid from his hand to the carpet. He half rose from the chair but was too weak to find purchase. The whole room spun, and his heart mercilessly pounded against his ribs. The ceiling was on the floor.

“Ron!”

Harry?

He couldn’t answer back as his whole body shook and convulsed around him, as his lungs spasming for air. He couldn’t breath. He wanted to scratch and tear at his throat, but every ounce of his strength was gone. His arms adhered at his sides. He was nothing but burning and horrible tension. Nothing could stop the pain slicing through him with each pulse. Every vein throbbed.

His vision was fading. The brains had their tentacles around his neck. He’d failed them all. Bile bubbled up through his lips, drowning him, immersing his lungs.

The pain was waning. His heart stopped pounding, and there was nothing left to feel but a deep peace. He’d finally feel relief and get to rest in darkness. It felt like Harry’s invisibility cloak had been lain upon him, and he was enveloped in its shimmery liquid.

He thought of his brothers, of his father, his sister, his mother, of his best friend… And her. Hermione’s smile. He wished he’d been able to see her smile one last time… He tried to tie a string on the highest branch, but now he was crashing to the ground, to never wake again.  
  



	4. Soup and Potions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who has reviewed thusfar! I really appreciate your feedback!
> 
> And an even BIGGER thanks to my amazing beta, Diva_Gonzo. Amazing human and you should all go read their fics!
> 
> ROMIONE FANS- WE'RE FINALLY GETTING SOME ROMIONE THIS CHAPTER!!
> 
> **Trigger warnings:**  
>  _disturbing imagery, cursing, hospital, medical injuries (blood, paralysis, brain damage, memory issues) , inappropriate jokes about one’s own_

The brain’s tentacles were ripping him to shreds and reality was warping around him as an unsteady pulse echoed in his ears. Spiders the size of houses walked over him while their young devoured his limbs, leaving him unable to move. Powerful convulsions constricted his chest and air bellowed over his shredded lungs. All he could feel was pain, a tangible darkness, and the sensation of being drowned, but backwards? The only real thing he could think about, besides the pain, was her. What was her name again?

The convulsions struck again and again. He longed to be able to lose himself in the darkness, but something kept tethering him to the unimaginable pain. He was drowning again, and his limbs were back, stiff as lead.

If he could only say her name one time, maybe all of this would end? It almost seemed like an answer to a riddle. He just couldn’t think what the riddle was or what the name was he should say. It was like trying to hold a fist full of sand, with each grain slipping through his fingers until he only had a few grains left.

The excruciating pain of flesh tearing apart made Ron try to gasp out, and fire seared through his nerves, flaying them raw.

“How long was he—”

Painful darkness swallowed him again. He tried with every bit of fortitude he could to open his eyes, to shout into the void, but the abyss consumed his voice and the air had become the icy waters of a Scottish loch. He wasn’t anything anymore, and everything shattered into a million stars. They burned bright, burning straight through his flesh, and nothing but dread filled him as the horizon grew closer, hotter, brighter. Then the answer appeared for him. Hermione. That was the name he’d been clawing his way towards. What was a Hermione? All he knew was that it meant he’d be safe somehow, he had something to fight for, he could fight his way through the exploding horizons, and tearing flesh, giant spiders, and—

“Mr Weasley?”

He could feel the sensation of his leaden arms and legs on the bed, his head pressing into a pillow. He tried to stir but couldn’t. Why could he not control his body?

His right eye was opened by someone.

“Follow the light without moving your head.”

Ron did as he was told, even though the light was so bright he could feel it throbbing in time with his heartbeat. A loud ringing tone pulsed in his ears, high and sharp.

“Can you open your eyes?”

He had to attempt it a few times before before he managed to pry his all too heavy eyelids open.

“Good, now follow the light with both eyes.”

He slowly blinked before complying. As his eyes adjusted he saw Madame Pomfrey standing before him, her starched apron reflecting the light into his eyes.

“Oh Ronnie, you’re alright!” he heard his Mum cry.

“Shhh Molly. She said not to interrupt.”

“Can you feel your arms and legs yet?”

Ron had to concentrate, but was able to barely wiggle them and they felt whole enough.

“Can I… Can I touch him?” his Mum ask Pomfrey, sounding teary.

“Yes. Gently. Just gentle touches, no compression.”

“Oh my Ronnie!” his Mum started weeping. “We were so frightened.”

Ron tried to form a word, any word, to say to his mother, but as soon as he could so much as rasp a coughing fit took him. It rattled and tore through him unlike any cough he’d ever had before. Dark red blood exploded from his lungs and splattered the matron’s apron. His lungs rattled as cough after cough shook his chest and tore through his throat.

His mouth was wrenched open and a vile tasting liquid was poured down his throat, though it was more fumes than actual liquid. The coughing ceased in moments, but the distinct coppery taste of blood still filled his mouth and nose. He tried to wipe the back of his arm across his mouth, but his arm just wouldn’t move off the bed, lamely twitching at his side. A slimy trail of sputum and blood oozed out of his mouth, but Pomfrey wiped it away with a handkerchief.

“He can’t respond well right now due to injuries, spells, and potions.”

“We love you, sweet boy. We love you so much,” his Mum said, holding his cold nerveless hand. He tried to squeeze back, but it was such a small twitch he doubted she felt it. A larger heavier hand gently squeezed his shoulder. He knew it was his dad but couldn’t see him well. He felt like he was wearing Harry’s glasses; everything blurry and filled with amorphous blobs of color.

Ron tried to form words again and found his mouth didn’t want to respond. He let out an unintelligible sound. He tried again.

“Urrhrl?”

Even though Ron’s mouth and throat seemed fine he couldn’t make words. His eyes widened in fear.

“Ron. What’s wrong? Something’s wrong,” said his Dad.

Ron began to panic as he tried again and again to make words. He couldn’t. Tears came to his eyes and he started to breathe hard.

“Oh no!” his Mum cried out. “Oh no! Is he ok? Ron?”

“He’s fine—” Pomfrey said perfunctorily. “Mr Weasley. Are you having trouble forming words right now?”

Ron tried desperately to say yes, but all that came out what a strange sound similar to the ghoul that lived in his attic. He tried to nod his head but it wouldn’t do what he said and just barely moved to the wrong direction. What was wrong with him? He was trapped. Trapped in his own body unable to say or do anything!

“Blink twice for yes. Can you not speak?”

He blinked twice. His mother let out a horrible mournful sob as his father tried to quiet her.

“Alright. Mr Weasley…”

He was distracted by the sounds, and how blurry everything was.

“Mr Weasley… Ron!”

His eyes again locked on Pomfrey.

“You are alright. What you are experiencing is temporary. You will be able to speak later. Maybe in a few hours. This is not permanent. The part of your brain that forms speech is injured, but will be healed - probably by the time you wake up tomorrow. You will regain movement in your body as well, but that might take longer before it’s completely healed. Do you understand, Ron?”

He blinked twice at her.

“This is all quite a lot for you, so I am going to cast a spell to help you sleep until you’re more healed. We don’t want the stress of these sensations to impede your healing.”

She cast a spell and immediately his eyes felt very heavy. He closed them awaiting sleep.

He could hear his mother still crying. Dad asking questions. Pomfrey explaining things. It was all stretching and warping and becoming harder to understand, and sleep took hold of him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Ron woke up with another fumey potion being put down this throat, no idea if a lot of time or little had passed. Coughs were quieting in his chest. Had he been coughing? A handkerchief was held to his face.

“I am going to press this against your nose and lean you back into your pillow. The bleeding will continue on and off again the next few days,” Pomfrey said, spelling away blood from her apron. She sounded like she was underwater, every word muffled to him.

“Wha... Wha habbened?” Ron let out as blood pooled in the back of his throat. He could just remember not being able to talk at one point.

“You were poisoned. Mr Potter shoved a bezoar down your throat just in time to keep it from being a fatal poisoning.”

“Where’s Harry?” His voice was lower than normal and impossibly hoarse. His throat felt stripped raw, and prickled in sharp pain.

“Asleep in his dormitory, I’m assuming. He, Miss Granger and your family were all here, though.”

“Hermione was here?” Ron asked, trying to sit up as quickly as he could. Instead his head rose off the pillow a few centimeters and he weakly collapsed back onto the bed. He gave another attempt to sit up, but the Matron of the hospital wing made it impossible to succeed.

“Don’t overexert yourself Mr Weasley. You need to rest,” she said, pushing him back onto his pillow.

“Did Hermione seem upset?” Ron blurted before realizing it was Pomfrey he was asking.

She seemed to find this amusing, and nearly smiled at him. He didn’t like that one bit.

“Yes, they were all quite upset. You need to rest, though. It is four in the morning and you are very ill still. The bezoar kept you from dying, but it will take a long time for your body to recover from the effects of the poison. Expect to spend, at minimum, a week here in the hospital wing.”

The sound in his ears came rushing back full force, and the whole room felt like it was lurching to the left. His head ached as time seemed to slow down and speed up and bend around him. He began to blink his eyes open again. What time was it? Where was he?

“What happened? Why am I here?” Ron asked, blinking a bit as the lights seemed to brighten.

“You were poisoned,” said Madame Pomfrey before running a diagnostic spell on him. “You’ll have some neurological effects for a few days at least. Your heart stopped, and you weren’t breathing  for a few minutes, so it might take a bit for your memory to be back to normal. You’ve been given potions that will undo that damage over the next few days, as long as you don’t over do it, they’ll work their course.”

She gave him a sheet of parchment.

“You can look here and all your questions will be answered,” she said. He looked down to see a variety of questions and answers.

What happened? Why am I in the hospital? Who visited? Who poisoned me? Will I be ok? Was Hermione here? Where are everyone? Was Hermione upset? Is everyone else ok? Where’s Harry? When can I leave? Will I be able to play quidditch? What potions do I have to take? Where is Hermione? Should there be all this blood? Are you sure this is normal? When will I be able to walk again? How am I going to the bathroom? Did anyone but my parents see me when I couldn’t talk? When will I be able to sit up on my own? Why can’t I use my hands? Do I still have to do my homework? Can’t I drink more water than that? When can I eat? Can Hermione visit me again?

“You’ve already asked these questions, and I’ve answered them each about five times now.”

“I have?” Ron asked, his head beginning to hurt.

“Yes. Don’t worry, it’s normal after such a poisoning,” she said fluffing his pillow and slowly pushing him back again. “But for now, you need to sleep.”

A potion was put to his mouth, and he swallowed it without complaint. It tasted like blue cheese wrapped in a musty fart, but within moments he was asleep again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“No… You go on to practice. I want to stay here a bit longer,” he heard the sweetest voice say.

It had to be Hermione. He willed his eyes to open, which took considerable effort and a lot longer than he expected. He heard the door close, but could just make out her brown hair, looking wild as ever.

“‘Ermione?” Ron let out. He coughed and felt some blood beginning to make its way down his throat. The coughs increased until a bottle was placed at his mouth, the vapors calming his breathing.

“You’re awake!”

“You’re here,” he rasped, seeing Hermione staring at him.

“I’m here,” she nodded. How could one person look so perfect and make him feel magically better? Well, better besides the feeling that he was choking on blood and couldn’t fight off a possessed scrambled egg if he had to.

“Mr Weasley, put your head back down on your pillow and put press the cloth against your nose until the bleeding stops,” Madam Pomfrey commanded. A handkerchief was thrust into his hand, and this time his fingers were able to feebly grasp it. The unpleasant taste of blood filled his mouth as he held up the cloth, but he couldn’t help but smile. He made sure it was a closed mouth smile, though. Last thing he wanted was the sight of bloody teeth sending Hermione away.

“Do you remember what happened?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she shone her wand into his eyes.

Ron could vaguely recall reading something about a poisoning, so nodded, hoping that would leave him alone with Hermione.

“Well that’s a sign your mind is finally healing, then,” she said, doing a diagnostic spell. “Yes much better than before. You’ll have some memory and cognition issues a bit longer, but you’ll be back to yourself in no time. No over exerting yourself, though! Not even sitting up yet, Mr Weasley. I’ll not let you have guests if you over do it.”

He forced his head back into his pillow, hoping that showed enough complicity. Madam Pomfrey spelled the bed to bend upward so he was almost in a completely seated position, but completely supported by the bed.

“Now if you have another coughing fit, take some of this potion,” she said indicating the small black hexagonal bottle that never seemed to have much liquid in it. “Once you breath in the vapors it should help with the coughing. If there’s blood, again, handkerchief and head back.”

A student was brought in with a tentacle beard, so Ron was finally left alone with Hermione. She shut his front curtains so they could have privacy. That or she wanted to murder him with no witnesses. He hoped it was the former.

“You’re really here,” Ron smiled hopefully. He thought he’d never have Hermione to himself again. She was biting her lip with worry, but she was there. She was beautiful, though a bit paler than usual. Was she in the hospital wing because she was injured? “How are you feeling?”

Hermione let out a watery laugh, and shook her head.

“Better, now that you’re awake.”

Her hand gently made its way into his, sending a thrill through him like the first time he’d ever ridden a broom. He tried to squeeze it hard back, partly to ground himself that this was real, and partly to let her know something of how happy he was to see her, but all he could manage was a limp clammy hold. She didn’t say anything to him, simply putting another hand on top of his one weak one.

“So… I kind of lied. I don’t entirely remember what’s been going on… I just wanted to see you,” Ron said quietly. Normally this would gain him a playful smack and one of Hermione’s classic grumpy eyerolls. Instead her eyebrows knitted together with worry and she let go of his hands.

“Oh shit! Please don’t leave. I’m so glad you’re here. It’s fine… I can catch up on this crap later.”

He honestly didn’t care if he sounded pathetic or desperate. She was the one thing he could hold on to when time was bending, and he wasn’t sure of what was real and not.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said firmly, yet kindly. If it weren’t for the threat of Pomfrey sending visitors away he thought he might have been able to literally jump for joy. “I just wanted to grab this piece of paper. Do you remember it at all?”

“Vaguely,” he said looking at the parchment. “It had some questions on it?”

“That’s right,” she said with a tight smile.

“Sorry I’m so stupid right now. I just can’t seem to keep a hold of things in my mind for long.”

“You’re far from stupid,” Hermione said with her trademark scowl, and he grinned at that. “You were nearly killed. You had anoxia, where your brain didn’t get enough oxygen. It’s literal brain damage.”

He almost laughed at being brain damaged, but tears began to pool in her eyes.

“If it weren’t for magic you might not be able to remember anything ever again, or talk, or move, and could have been mentally infirm the rest of your life. It wouldn’t have been temporary. You’d not be yourself and I just — I just can’t stand the thought that-that someone as alive and as - as wonderful as you could ever be struck down and unable to be yourself and I was so so afraid I was going to lose you and the last things I ever said to you were-were horrible, and I just —”

“Oh, Hermione, don’t—” he said while weakly raising his arms as high as he could so she’d come into them. She didn’t fully embrace him, probably afraid she’d hurt him or some tosh, but sat beside him and let him put an arm around her. Hermione needed facts and figures to comfort her. “Hey, according to this parchment, I’m going to be ok, right?”

She gave a great wet sniff and nodded, though she looked even paler than before. He’d have to humiliate himself a bit to get her to laugh, but it would be worth it.

“And apparently there are some spells in place, so we don’t have to worry I’ll wet myself in the bed, even though I’m so mentally infirm,” he said with conspiratorial grin.

She let out a small laugh.

He pushed aside the frightening memory of being unable to talk or move. He was glad Hermione hadn’t been there for that. Or had he been like that in front of her? He couldn’t remember. It had scared him more than anything, being trapped in his body and unable to use it. He still was weak as a newly hatched puffskein, but he could function on some level at least.

He scanned the parchment of questions and answers, and somewhere near the bottom he had asked about who saw him when he had been unable to talk. It seemed only his parents had seen him at his worst. Good.

Looking at the parchment more closely he noted how many times he’d asked about Hermione and blushed a bit, knowing Hermione had probably read through this list a dozen times. If there was something to read, Hermione will have read it a few times and memorized it, if she could. She hooked her hand in his again and looked as if she were about to say something when the hospital door opened with a loud bang.

“Madame Pomfrey!” he could hear a girl cry out. Wait, that wasn’t just any girl. That was Lavender! His girlfriend! Lavender! And here he was holding hands with Hermione. Oh shit! Oh shit! Hermione’s hand left his, and he just knew this was going to thrust everything back to how it had been, with Hermione shunning him and Lavender trying so hard to fill that void, and he didn’t know what to do.

He could hear Lavender working herself into a tizzy across the hall, and Pomfrey shushing her. All the lights seemed too bright in the room and his head began to throb as panic set in.

Quickly he looked at Hermione and grabbed her hand just for an instant.

“Don’t go. Swear you won’t go,” he whispered with more intensity than was probably medically advisable.

“I—” Hermione began glancing in the direction of the doors. “Alright. I swear.”

“Good,” he said with a sigh.

“Well no one told me!” he heard Lavender practically yell across the hospital wing.

Ron looked down at the parchment with questions, many of which were about Hermione, and none of which were about Lavender. It practically announced his obsession with Hermione! He promptly thrust it under his pillow.

“I’ve been asleep!” he desperately said to Hermione, before hitting a button on the bed that laid it flat with an unpleasant clank, a painful shudder going through his system. He would have cried out in discomfort, but the curtains opened and it was somehow very important that he pretend to be asleep.

“Oh! Oh Ron!” Lavender let out, throwing herself on the bed and tightly holding onto his chest. It took a great deal of willpower not to hiss out in pain. “Oh Won Won!”

“Miss Brown,” Pomfrey intervened. She must have physically drawn Lavender away from him, because he could suddenly breath a little easier. “He’s been seriously incapacitated and needs to be treated gently.”

“Oh no! I didn’t do any damage did I?” Lavender sounded close to crying. For a moment Ron felt like he should wake up and comfort her, but he was so scared to break the newfound peace he had with Hermione, he didn’t dare.

“He’s a tough one. I’m sure he’s fine,” said Pomfrey, with something akin to fondness in her voice.

“He  _is_  a tough one! He is!” Lavender proclaimed, now holding his hand. “Will he wake up soon?”

“He’s been in and out of consciousness. He suffered a bit of brain damage that—”

“Brain damage!” Lavender wailed.

“Lavender it’s not permanent. He’ll be ok,” he heard Hermione break in. Lavender dropped his hand like a hot potato and any crying completely ceased.

“What are you here for? Come to finish the job?!”

“Of course not!” Hermione hotly replied. “I’m his friend and—”

“You have some nerve calling yourself that, the way you’ve been treating him!”

“Miss Brown…” Pomfrey began, but Ron knew Lavender was just getting started.

“No! You shouldn’t be here at all!” Lavender said firmly, and much louder than was necessary. “You’ve been treating him worse than dragon dung for months, all because he was dating me instead of you, and I’m sick of it. We’re all sick of it. You’ve been so cruel, and you weren’t much better before I started dating him. None of you were!”

He could hear Lavender stomp her foot on the ground.

“He’s always sick with worry and none of you even try to be nice to him or pay him any attention, and it’s horrid! He's barely had friends the past few months! I come around, and you both disappear like a pair of demiguises! You and Harry hate when anyone else spends time on Ron, but won't bother to show a hint of appreciation when you have him. Did he really have to nearly die for him to be interesting enough for you? You've come to gawk at him the moment he's down, but where were you when he was well? Hmm?”

There was a great awkward pause between them all that made Ron infinitely grateful he was pretending to be asleep and didn’t have to participate.

“If you’re quite done, Miss Brown!” Pomfrey barked. “Keep your voice down, or I will have to ask you to leave.”

“It’s alright. I’m leaving. I have no interest in being around  _her_ ,” Lavender snidely finished. Ron felt a sudden trembling sensation in his throat. A suppressed fit of coughs began wrestling its way through him to break free. He held his breath, and gave every effort he could think of to hold in the hacks.

“I’ll b-be back later to check on Ron again. I’m his  _girlfriend_ ,” Lavender said, sounding somewhat wobbly again. “I c-care, and I should have been t-told…”

He could hear her sobs echo off the walls, and travel all the way down into the hallway. Ron felt terrible guilt fill him, but his body wouldn’t let him dwell on that as he broke out into a series of bloody coughs. Head throbbing, he blindly reached out for the potion bottle from earlier.

But then his hand was stayed. His head was tenderly cradled, small cool hands weaving into his hair. Eyes watery from the coughs he could just make out Hermione holding the potion bottle up for him, uncapped and ready. He put his unsteady hand around hers and weakly guided it to his mouth. His coughing subsided, and he only had to fumblingly hold a handkerchief to his mouth a short period of time before the bleeding stopped.

“Can I—?” Ron’s vocal chords grated together making it difficult to speak. “Water?”

Pomfrey nodded, and a cup of water with a straw was put into his hands. He gratefully drank it down, and mourned how little there was, until it magically refilled.

“Thanks,” he rasped out, leaving him alone with Hermione again. Her hand was still gently stroking his hair in a way she’d never touched him before. His stomach swooped, filled with snitches at her tender attentions. How could such a small thing cause him to feel such bewildering excitement, but also bring him such peace? He closed his eyes a moment and let the feeling of comfort wash over him. He was sick and tired, so he could indulge in the sensation without being judged.

“I’m not here to ‘gawk at you’,’” Hermione murmured, her fingers playing with his hair.

“I know.”

“I’ll… I’ll try harder to be... Lavender was right, even before the fight, I —”

“No, she wasn’t,” Ron protested, but Hermione’s hand fell from his hair. He opened his eyes to see her hands twisting together as they did when she was particularly anxious. He couldn’t have that. “C’mere.”

For once, Hermione didn’t argue, and she came close to him. He put out his hand and she silently held it.

“I think you’re plenty nice,” Ron said, looking her squarely in the eye, taking both her hands in his.

“I’m not! I haven’t been. I’ve been—”

“Fine! The last few months you were a terror.”

All her worry turned to a flash of anger.

“You can’t get mad at me, I’m brain damaged,” he said. It was inappropriate to joke about it, he knew, but it got a snort out of her so he wasn’t too fussed. “Please don’t beat yourself up over what Lavender said. You’ve been plenty nice most of the time.”

“I haven’t though,” she answered, her brows creasing again. He gave a sigh. What was he supposed to do with her? He didn’t want to risk vexing her, but he also couldn’t let her beat herself up.

“Last year… When my Dad nearly died, you were on a skiing trip with your parents. You took a knightbus all the way across Europe to get to us.”

Ron had secretly hoped it’d been just for him. It had felt as though it were his own Christmas gift, to have Hermione hugging him close to her, looking very green faced and wane from the long Knight Bus ride she’d endured for hours and hours.

“You gave up Christmas with your parents and a fancy vacation, and replaced it with a grotty old mansion and a bunch of gingers losing their shit. Made the whole holiday turn around for me — everyone else… If that’s not nice, I don’t know what is. You’re more than nice, you’re good.”

Hermione gave a sniff as if she were about to cry.

“Of course,” he said, scrambling to find something to stop her tears, “maybe you just really wanted to spend time with Kreacher. Either way, you were making someone’s Christmas. There, that do?”

She gave a tight smile. Anyone else who didn’t know Hermione as well as he knew her would call it a cringe.

  
Ron reached out to her hand and took her warm one in his cold one. “So how ‘bout we start over? Both try to be friends again?” he asked.

Hermione looked down, as if weighing something out in her mind, her eyebrows knit together. He almost joked that she’d better hurry or he might keel over, but he knew this time he should give her space.

“I’d… I’d like that, Ron.”

She said his name. She’d said it loads of times over the years, but right now it burned through him and made his body feel light. He realized he’d been smiling at her a bit too long, and unclasped his hands from hers. He didn’t want her to think he was completely mental.

“So! What day is it? Do I have loads of homework you have to catch me up on?”

“You’ve only been out a day and a half. Today’s Sunday. No homework I can help with yet,” Hermione said, sagging in her seat. “I can go, if you need to rest… Come back when I can be useful.”

He’d noticed how pale she was the moment he woke up, but now that he sat and really looked at her, she looked frail and so tired.

“I like it when we don’t have any homework and it’s just us. I’ll take you whenever I can.”

She flushed and looked embarrassedly pleased as she sat beside him.

He was vaguely aware that this was more than he should say to her. Maybe it was the potions thrumming through his body, or the near death experience, or just the enthrallment of having Hermione at his side again; but he didn’t care. He had Hermione back, and that meant everything in the world.

He spent the next half hour enjoying Hermione’s company more than he had his entire life. They only spoke of innocuous things like the Twins showing up for his birthday with gifts, what they thought about Apparition lessons, and Crookshanks’s latest ‘adventures,’ but this time he really relished it, for he finally knew what it was to be without her company. He wasn’t the same kid who could be without Hermione for a month or so over a spat. The hole her absence had left this time around had been too much for him, and he hadn’t even realized it. He needed Hermione Granger in his life to feel whole.

“Lunch has arrived,” Pomfrey said, a metal trolley magically following her to his bedside. He was worried Hermione would have to leave, but Pomfrey had been kind enough to make sure Hermione had a meal as well. He decided Pomfrey might not be such a hard-nosed old bird after all.

While Hermione had a sandwich and delicious looking sides, Ron was left with a disappointing looking broth. He hadn’t realized just how impaired his limbs were until his first attempt to scoop a spoonful of broth to his mouth. What had always been a simple task he took for granted made his hand seize, shake and jerk as soon as he held the spoon tight and rotated it toward the bowl. After the third attempt he knew it was useless. There was no way he could navigate a spoonful of liquid to his mouth.

“That’s due to the nerve damage from the poison, Mr Weasley. It will get better. Until then I can feed you myself, or use an alternative method to get you the nutrition you need. Those methods are not the most pleasant, and I typically do them when the patient is sedated, but they get the job done.”

If someone as hardcore as Pomfrey said something was unpleasant, he’d rather avoid it if he could. He felt utterly useless lying in a bed unable to use a spoon. It wasn’t as bad as the scene he’d endured with his parents, but it was too uncomfortably similar for him to ignore the same frightening sense that he was imobile and being strangled by a brain again. The sense of hopelessness and being trapped made him feel sick to his stomach.

Would he ever have dignity again? It’s not like he had that much to begin with, but this was too invalidating. He was about to sign up for one of the ‘unpleasant’ methods, to avoid the humiliation of being hand fed, but his comment was cut off before he could make a sound.

“I can feed Ron,” Hermione volunteered, before looking at Ron. “That is… If it’s ok with you.”

Ron goggled at her. Why would Hermione sign up for such a task? Lavender’s comments must have rattled her and she wanted to assuage her guilt by punishing herself. Ron wanted to protest, but stopped himself. The thought of it was completely humiliating, but she was looking at him with a mix of hope, sadness, unease and something else he couldn’t define. Perhaps it would make Hermione not look so sad to say yes?

She never signed up for something she didn’t feel very compelled to do. And Ron couldn’t deny that on some level, deep down, there was something a tiny bit alluring and intimate in the thought of Hermione feeding him. He’d much rather it be grapes or something under a tree as they kissed and she played with his hair, but Ron’s life had never given him much poetry or romance before. He had to take his parodies of intimacy as they came.

“Er… If you’re sure…”

“I am!” she declared, that challenging glint in her eye. He was too tired and weak to even contemplate fighting her. She’d probably wrestle the spoon out of Pomfrey’s grasp, barricade the door and force-feed him with a funnel if he didn’t say yes.

“Then... yeah, ok. Thanks.”

It was awkward at first, Hermione spooning food into the great useless lug he’d become. He felt utterly broken, but they found their rhythm, and he discovered he was able to gaze upon her without fear of repercussion. It took the sting out of the infantilization, and almost made it enjoyable.

He made sure she took the time to eat too. She was prone to getting lost in tasks and forgetting to feed herself. He enviously eyed her sandwich, but the scent of it made his stomach lurch, and he realised he needed to stick to broth. The potions roiling through him made even the broth a bit hard to keep down.

They were almost done with the broth when Harry and Ginny came to visit after Quidditch practice. They looked morose as they opened the doors, but their faces both broke into mad grins upon spotting Ron and they ran straight at him.

“You’re awake!” they chorused, laughing together.

“I’m awake!” he laughed right back, but he regretted the enthusiasm he had used, for it earned him a coughing fit and a scolding from Pomfrey for getting overexcited. The two sobered up as they watched Ron with his handkerchief he could barely hold straight.

“Stupid bloody cough,” Ron muttered.

“Literally,” Harry added, though he didn’t look amused.

“Har har, very funny,” Ron replied. Head back to let the blood drain down his throat, and not having to look Harry in the eye, he decided now was as good a time as ever to thank his best friend. “Harry, mate. Thanks for, y’know, saving my life and everything.”

“I didn’t really… It was because I’d read the Half-Blood Prince’s notes…”

“Did the book put that bezoar down my throat, then?”

“Well no…”

“Then take my thanks, mate.”

“Course,” Harry muttered. He started fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve as he always did when people made a big deal of him. Ron knew that was as good as they could get with other people looking on. Ron would corner his friend later and make sure he knew how much he was appreciated, without belaboring the point or embarrassing Harry.

“Should we finish up your soup, Ron?” Hermione said, to bring the attention off Harry. She usually wasn’t very good at redirecting like this, but he supposed she must have improved over the past months without Ron running interference.

Neither Harry or Ginny took it upon themself to comment on the renewed friendship between Ron and Hermione, and he was very grateful for it.

“Yeah sure, let’s finish the soup,” he said, a bit chagrined to be spoon fed in front of his mate and little sister, but he wanted to give Harry an out.

Hermione had just filled the spoon and was holding it up for him when Ginny let out a snort.

“You’re such a lazy sod, getting Hermione to feed you.” Ginny said with a laugh, while Harry smirked at her. “You act like you’re handicapped.”

Hermione’s serene countenance immediately turned hard and she dropped the spoon back into the bowl with a clang.

“Are you both really that thick?” Hermione hissed, vehemently glaring at Harry and Ginny. “He has nerve damage and can’t so much as hold the spoon without his whole arm spasming, so yes he is as bad as all that! He nearly died not two days ago, and is so lucky he won’t have permanent injuries! Your brother almost lost the ability to speak or ever move his limbs again. He needs to eat, so I’m going to bloody well feed him if he needs it!”

Ginny and Harry blanched, while Ron beamed at Hermione cursing on his behalf. ‘Bloody’ wasn’t real cursing, but for Hermione it was practically an f-bomb.

“It’s fine, Hermione; she was just taking the mickey. S’what siblings do,” Ron said as Hermione jabbed the spoon at him. She clearly didn’t find it funny, but no one wanted to upset the new peace that had settled between Ron and Hermione.

Harry and Ginny lamented about practice, and how terrible McLaggen was, and how they missed Ron. That alone made him feel better than any potion could, but he had to admit, as the soup was finished off, he was feeling exhausted. He was trying to blink away the sleep and pay attention to them all, but before he could say anything Pomfrey bustled in with a tray of potions.

“Now that you’ve eaten, we need to give you your potions.”

“Will I be able to use a spoon soon?” he sleepily asked.

“Maybe by tomorrow’s breakfast,” she said, giving him a teaspoon of liquid that tasted like someone had blended chalk, lawn clippings, and petrol together. He had to fight not to vomit up all the broth Hermione had fed him. A few other rancid potions later and his battle to stay lucid and awake had become near impossible.

“Mr Weasley will be going to sleep soon. If you want to come around dinner time, he should be awake then.”

His eye lids were drooping, and the whole room seemed to grow fuzzy.

“We’ll be back late this afternoon, mate,” Harry said with a tight smile.

“Yer a good frieen’,” Ron slurred back.

“You are too. I’m so glad you’re ok,” Harry said, looking oddly emotional.

Ginny held Ron’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Love you, you lazy sod.”

“Live ya’ toooo, midget.”

With that, Harry and Ginny left his side. That or they were part of the dark blur that was taking over his vision.

Hermione was the final one to approach. Her fingers grazed his hair, swiping it to the side of his forehead.

“I’ll stay here, if that’s ok.”

“Don’ hafta...” he said with eyes closed.

“I know… I want to, though. I can read and make sure you’re really alright.”

“M’ok. Gotchoo back. M’great. Live you ‘ermione…” he sighed out as comforting darkness took him off to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When he awoke again it was starting to get dark outside, with the sunset casting a pinkish glow about the ward. Hermione sat in a chair with a small desk she’d either spelled into existence or Pomfrey had provided. Her chair also looked a lot more cushioned than the usual chairs he’d seen in the Hospital Wing.

“Hey,” he said, voice sounding rough and still weirdly deep to him. He only let out a short cough, but this time he didn’t need a handkerchief or potion. There was only a small hint of the blood taste this time.

“Oh!” Hermione let out, casting aside a long scroll, and scrambling to extricate herself from the little study barricade she’d made herself. They contentedly beamed at each other.

“So, do you remember everything?” she asked.

“I don’t know… Who are you again?”

For a split second she seemed to take him seriously, but then he laughed and she joined him.

“Don’t joke about that!”

“Hermione, I have a very small amount of time that I can make jokes about this. Don’t take what few comforts an invalid like myself has!”

“But really, do you remember everything?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Of course I do!” Ron laughed, but as he thought, he wasn’t entirely sure he did know what day it was. It was a silly thing to have trouble remembering, but he’d forgotten the day of the week enough before the poisoning, so it couldn’t be anything worth mentioning.

A moment later Harry came through the Hospital Wing doors, looking put out, but he seemed to perk up once he got near them.

“Ginny coming?” Hermione asked.

“In a bit. She was, er, saying goodbye to Dean… It got prolonged so I went on ahead.”

Hermione had a keen look in her eye as he said this.

“How are you feeling, Ron?” Harry asked sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I haven’t been coughing up blood, so alright?” Ron said testing out his hands. He rotated them and they felt a tiny bit stronger. They still shook though when he twisted them, and his fingers still felt hard to manipulate.

Ginny stormed through the doors looking angry even after she reached them.

“You ok?” Harry asked.

“Apparently there was no point to my cutting dinner short to visit my brother because Ron is all fine!” she groused, before looking at Ron with a twinkle in her eyes. “See the things I do and sacrifice for you! Best appreciate it.”

“Oh yeah, cutting dinner short one time. I’m really grateful. We’ll be giving you a prize for you humanitarian work soon,” Ron teased back.

Hermione frowned, never quite able to understand his relationship with Ginny. To outsiders he could see they’d think he and Ginny didn’t get along at all, but most of them were just only children like Hermione who didn’t get that giving each other shit was part of it. They didn’t yammer away like a pair of prepubescent girls, but they were able to support each other when the chips were down; especially if no one else was around to bare witness.

Pomfrey arrived with the food trolley again, and Hermione was given a tray again.

“You’ll have to get your meals in the Great Hall from now on, though.”

Hermione nodded, looking disappointed as her cheeks colored. Ron was again given broth, but this time it was accompanied with some rolls.

“Do you need help again?” Hermione asked, looking to the broth.

“You know, why don’t you conjure a mug and a straw. I can just suck from that,” replied Ron, sure he did not want share the intimacy of being spoon-fed by Hermione with the likes of Harry and Ginny sitting by. Hermione did as he asked, and as she took her time preparing his soup, Ron decided now was as good a time as ever to thank his best friend. “Harry, mate. Thanks for, y’know, saving my life and everything.”

“Yeah. It’s no problem,” Harry said ducking his head. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.”

“It’s the first I have. You should take my thanks, mate.”

“You thanked him already,” said Ginny, looking at him with squinted eyes.

“Did I?” Ron asked. He felt fine and clear headed.

Hermione set down his bowl with a thud.

“Ron… What day of the week do you think it is?”

Agitation coursed through him as he realized she’d asked this already.

“Why does it matter?”

“Because we talked about it earlier today, and now you can’t seem to remember that. Or thanking Harry.”

“You’re having trouble remembering things?” Harry asked. It felt like everyones eyes were on him.

“I’m fine! I’m doing just fine,” Ron said, almost more to himself than the others.

“Do you remember who visited you earlier today?” Hermione pressed.

“You did,” Ron said, then he remembered they said he’d already thanked Harry. “And Harry did.”

“I was there too,” Ginny said, looking concerned.

“And Lavender visited,” Hermione added. He could vaguely recall pretending to be asleep for that.

“Should we get Pomfrey?” Harry asked, but he wasn’t looking at Ron, he was addressing Ginny and Hermione.

“I don’t know. There is supposed to be memory issues… I’m not sure if this is not more of the same. I mean his brain damage is being healed. Madame Pomfrey said it should heal fine.”

“But he couldn’t remember me at all,” Ginny said, looking pale. “He was able to remember other people. What if he starts forgetting people?”

“Did… Was I too late getting the bezoar to him?” Harry croaked out, which made Ron sit up tall in his bed.

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here!”  Ron yelled, but the force of it made his lungs protest with a series of the ugly coughs he was already getting used to. Blood ruptured out of him before he could stop it. He tried to catch the blood so it didn’t run down his chin and chest, but all it did was flow between his fingers as he futilely looked for a cloth to sop it up. The other three were staring at him in alarm, frozen in place.

Pomfrey rushed in, looking angry. She quickly had a cloth in Ron’s hands, and had spelled him clean of blood.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded.

Ron slouched as he knew he’d been too loud, but she wasn’t glaring at him. Pomfrey was glaring at the others as if she’d throw them out any moment.

“Ron can’t remember what day it is, or that he thanked Harry already, or that Ginny and Lavender were even here!” Hermione immediately answered.

“Oh, and here I thought he was asleep for the encounter you had with Miss Brown,” she said very dryly. Ron snorted, but his friends and sister looked just as alarmed as they had been.

Pomfrey set her shoulders and gave a great sigh.

“This is part of the healing process. He will have moments where he can’t remember things, and bringing attention to it and acting as if it’s the end of the world will not help him. It will just increase his stress and inhibit his healing. If Mr Weasley would like to do a memory assessment after dinner to assuage any fears that he’s relapsing or something in the healing process is not happening, I am happy to do that at his behest. For now, write down anything else he needs to remember on a new parchment, if you like, so he can remind himself later, if he thinks it would be helpful. Respect the patient.”

The three looked thoroughly chagrined by the end of her speech.

Ron gave a hum and slurped down some soup through a straw.

“And Mr Weasley, don’t make me sedate you,” she said, making his small victory less enjoyable.

He tentatively reached towards a roll. It was still warm, and the scent brought him back to the rolls his mum made at home. He fumbled it, nearly dropping it onto the blanket on his lap before his fingers finally worked, shaking slightly in holding it. He tore the bread and brought a small bit to his mouth. His stomach gave a grateful grumble for solid food, and he almost moaned at the taste of something that wasn’t disgusting potions.

The other three were watching him closely, as if afraid he’d explode in a bloody heap from the bread. All of them were people of action, and when they didn’t have something to occupy themselves with, they were pretty damned useless. He couldn’t do much to entertain of distract them himself. He needed all his energy for eating bread, as pathetic as it felt.

“Why don’t you catch me up on what I missed the last few days again,” Ron said, knowing giving them each a task would put them more at ease, and maybe even make them stop staring. They enthusiastically went into the task of catching him up, and he was allowed to not fully engage with them.

Having them describe things, only bits and pieces of what he’d forgotten came back, but he wasn’t too fussed. He happily enjoyed his meal as his favorite people caught him up on everything.

Apparently Lavender had come a second time when he’d actually been sleeping that afternoon, but Hermione’s presence seemed to convince her to leave. She did not like the vigil being taken over by Hermione, and Hermione seemed to almost revel in it. It was a touch unfair to Lavender he supposed, but Ron was not about to intervene. He’d not make either girl happy by sticking his wand into the situation.

The feeling of having real chewable food in his stomach was comforting, but sleep inducing, and he was quickly needing to sleep again, much to his disappointment. To his surprise, they all seemed to be sad about it too.

“I’ll be in as much as I can,” Harry said, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder, reminding Ron of his father somehow. It was a different dynamic, as Harry wasn’t much of a caretaker, or much for touching people. He cared of course, but it was usually Hermione and Ron seeing to Harry like this. Harry had been pale and dispirited all night, and Ron worried something was going on with his best mate.

“And I will make sure Harry doesn’t go broody while you’re in here,” said Ginny, giving Ron a very gentle hug. Ron was grateful for her insight. He worried for Harry’s state of mind when he didn’t have someone to pull him out of his doldrums. Hermione was a genius and wonderful at so many things - but that was never her strong suit. Ginny was good enough at it. It was a shame the two of them had never gotten together, because Ron felt like they could do well. He liked Dean a lot, but he wished she’d never dated him so maybe she and Harry would have had a chance.

“I’ll try to visit before class, and will make sure you aren’t behind. I’ll bring your notes every day, and tutor you in anything you’re feeling the least bit uncertain about,” Hermione swore to him, looking so earnest and worried he could have kissed her, but he knew that was definitely out of bounds.

“Thanks everyone,” Ron said, making sure to give Hermione’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Harry and Ginny went on to leave, but Ron help Hermione’s hand a bit longer. Harry and Ginny smiled in some sort of knowing way that Ron didn’t like, but then they left him and Hermione alone.

“I might not be able to remember everyone and everything well, but I wanted you to know, I remember a lot of you from today,” Ron said, pushing through the encroaching sleepiness. “I’m… I’m really glad to have you back.”

“I’m glad to be back,” she said in a small voice.

“You’ll look out for Harry, right? He looked peaky and in one of his moods.”

“I think he’s still a bit out of sorts over what happened to you. When we were worried about your memory he immediately thought he’d somehow failed you and hadn’t gotten the bezoar in you in time. Frankly, he’s been very shaken by it. We all were. But he described it, and it sounds like it was a very traumatizing sight for him. The rest of us were spared seeing you like that, at least, but he lived through seeing you nearly die right in front of his eyes.”

“Experiencing nearly dying wasn’t a treat either,” Ron muttered, feeling a hint of bitterness.

“Oh I wasn’t meaning to dismiss you!” she fretted.

“You didn’t,” he reassured her. He tried to disarm his momentary lapse with a casual grin. Their peace was so new that she was worrying herself trying to make it go smoothly. He wanted to say more, but he was just so bleeding tired. He gave a yawn. “I’m looking forward to seeing you. I want a full report of at least two fun things that aren’t school work related.”

“I’ll do that,” Hermione smiled. She gave a soft goodnight, patted his hand and went for the doors.

Pomfrey descended upon him a moment later.

“I know you’re tired, but we have some potions and spells to administer. Do you want the memory assessment?”

“No… No I think I’m remembering all the important things ok enough. I’ll write down bratty little sisters and dramatic girlfriends though. And apparently have a calendar and journal laid out so they don’t go barmy again.”

Pomfrey actually gave a small smirk.

“Yes… Loved ones can get a bit excessive in these situations. They don’t have the training to help and it’s very disorienting for them,” she said gathering the bottles and spooning him potions one by one. “Some loved ones ignore the patient, others smother, some will start trying to Heal on their own, some become rather alarmist and alert me at the drop of a hat. I had a special case of a loved one who didn’t do any of that, though.”

“Oh yeah?” he said as he gagged down a potion. She was being uncharacteristically talkative. Perhaps it got lonely in the Hospital Wing when there was only one patient to see to.

“Yes. Had him in here a few times. When the patient was asleep, their loved one was very hard to manage. He’d practically yell at me for answers and wouldn’t stop until every single one was answered, and he had to know exactly everything about every treatment I would be administering. So that was not all that pleasant for me.”

“Well it makes sense. You don’t want to be pushing the sick person to tell you everything,” Ron said with a shrug.

“That is true, I suppose. Well, he was good at reporting to me anything I should know without alarming the patient, so he was helpful in that, at least. That same young man was very different with the patients though.

“When the patient was awake he would spend the whole time making the patient feel at ease. He’d tell funny stories, distract them from their injuries, and make them have a sense of normalcy, but very slyly the whole the time making sure the patient was taken care of and following medical orders. Ideal for helping a loved one, really.”

“Wish I knew the guy, perhaps he could help calm down my lot,” Ron said as he settled into the bed.

“Unfortunately the young man is currently a patient himself,” Pomfrey said, fluffing his pillow.

Ron looked about the empty ward a moment then realized who she meant. She meant him. He was the young man she was talking about, somehow. When did he do all of that for someone else? Did he do that for Harry? Hermione? Both? Someone else? He couldn’t excavate that memory for anything.

He wasn’t sure how to feel. Then again he had so many potions coursing through him, he practically felt like he was floating out of his own body.

“Concentrate on your recovery, young man. You might have to be woken in the night for some new spells. I’ll try to keep from disturbing you if I can.”

“Uh huh…” Ron breathed out as sleep curled around him like a warm embrace. His friends and bratty sister all meant well, so he couldn’t stay annoyed with them.

Pomfrey was right. He needed to concentrate on his healing. Plus Hermione was back in his life, and having Hermione Granger in your life could cure any ill.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this- or even if you didn't- please leave a review! :) 


End file.
